Shaloxeroligon & the Sorcerer's Stone
by Squishy-Details
Summary: This parallel novel tells the story from the perspective of a new character, with a twist. This new character will alter the plotline in new and interesting ways. If you want a better summary, please read the first chapter.
1. Intro Chapter

**Shaloxeroligon & the Sorcerers' Stone**

By Squishy-Details

Introduction

Unlike what many of my readers think, this is not a parody, nor is it bashing the honest work of Mrs. J.K. Rowling. It is a parallel novel, in which an author tells the same story as a previous novel, but from a different point of view. An example of this is Ender's Shadow, which is a parallel novel of Ender's Game. This story is a parallel novel of Harry Potter & the Sorcerers' Stone. The only real change that I made was the addition of a new main character, Shaloxeroligon. The story is told in third-person omniscient from his point of view. Because of his presence, he will both directly and indirectly change the events of the plot. Things will turn out differently simply because he is there and is participating in the events to come. Please note: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise, nor do I own Wizards of the Coast as a company, so please don't sue because I am using material that I didn't come up with myself. I hope you enjoy this story, and please feel free to post comments.


	2. Chapter 1: Beginnings and Meetings

Chapter 1: Beginnings and Meetings

The land was hilly. There were rocks jutting out of the ground from place to place, and here and there, large boulders, some large enough to be considered mountains, protruded out of the ground. There were trees to the south, and the land only got more rocky and mountainous as it went north. This area was far distant from any real human civilization. There were just a few farmers, each one about six miles away from the other. They all raised cattle, sheep, and other popular livestock. They raised them naturally because they felt that using chemicals and genetic engineering was just plain wrong.

Shaloxeroligon (pronounced shal-OCKS-ah-ROHL-ih-gohn) and his family were very much glad that those humans did not use chemicals or genetic engineering. Animals like that don't taste very well. Besides, humans tend to tell each other about what they see, so if anyone found out about him and his family, either they would be hunted down and killed or England itself would be evacuated, and their food supply would be severely limited.

Shaloxeroligon (or Shal, his nickname) was very smart for his age and was adroit with his hands, but he was not as strong as other dragons. He also had difficulty thinking on his feet, which led his younger brothers and sisters to believe him to be slow in the head. Shal was the oldest of his siblings, at age eleven. He had five younger brothers, named Hyjoxar, Natgar, Cirothe, Athkore and Iregor (who were twins), and four younger sisters, named Iskshafaeredar (which means star on earth), Askoort, Miirikekessearenk (which means song to tomorrow), and Verselathearbensvelk (which means celestial power of good).

At first glance, Shal appeared just like any other copper dragon. Although not as physically strong as some, his muscular shoulders and thighs granted him extraordinary jumping ability. (From the Draconomicon, pg 44-45) "A copper dragon's head has a short face and no beak. Broad, smooth browplates jut over the eyes, and long, flat coppery horns extend back from the browplates in a series of segments. The dragon also has backswept cheek ridges and frills on the backs of the lower jaws that sweep forward slightly. Layers of Triangular blades point down from the chin, and as the dragon gets older more layers with larger blades develop. The dragon has a long tongue that come to a single point.

At birth, a copper dragon's scales have a ruddy brown color with a metallic tint. As the dragon gets older, the scales become finer and more coppery, assuming a soft, warm gloss by the young adult stage (age 51-100). A very old (age 601-800) dragon's scales pick up a green tint. A copper dragon's pupils fade with age, and the eyes of a great wyrm (age 1201+) resemble glowing turquoise orbs.

Copper dragons have a stony odor.

Copper dragons have mantalike wings that show green and red mottling along the trailing edges. The upper alar limb is exceedingly short, giving the leading edges of the wing a U-shaped profile when viewed from below. The wings run down the dragon's entire body, almost to the tip of the tail. The main portion of the wing is supported by three phalanges and a modified alar olecranon. Spines sweeping backward at an angle from the backbone support the remainder of the wing."

But there was something about him that made him seem different. That oddity was both very strange and very subtle, as if he were meant to do great things. He was different, and he knew it inside.

At long last the description is over. Shal was relaxing in the lair, enjoying the wonderful music of Led Zeppelin. His parents had bought him a bunch of CDs, and he was using those wondrous gifts to full effect. They were busy at the moment. For a split second Shal felt a strange presence above him, but he ignored it, drawing back into himself to enjoy the beauty of "Achilles Last Stand." Just around the middle of the song, Shal was assaulted. His youngest sister, Miirikekessearenk, jumped down from the wall of the cave and landed on his back, knocking him over and throwing the headset from his ears. She pinned him down (she was very, very strong for her age) so he couldn't move and glared into his turquoise eyes. They stared at each other for three full seconds, then Miir began to laugh, and she rolled onto the floor beside him.

"You should have seen the look on your face!" she laughed, "You didn't even see it coming!"

"Why couldn't you have waited till later to tackle me? I was in the middle of such a great song," Shal said. "Now I have to start all over again."

"Because," Miir replied, "Dad says that he was going out to get dinner and wanted you to come along."

"Cool! Dad never lets me come along with him," Shal said excitedly, "He always tells me that it's too dangerous for someone as young as me."

"It's not fair that you get to go hunting with Dad and all the rest of us don't," Miir whined. "It's just not fair."

"I'm the oldest, and Dad trusts me, so there," Shal said, rubbing it in her face. He had a second thought and said, "If it'll make you feel any better, you can listen to my music 'til we get back." Miir nodded.

Shal anxiously left his room in search of his father. Their cave was very large, covering several thousand square feet of area, and composed almost entirely out of natural limestone, although his parents had to use some of their more powerful spells to shape it to their liking. Their treasure hoard, which was technically property of his father, Versvechverthicha, lay at the bottom room of the lair, and was well protected. A tunnel wound up to the large main cave, where the family spent most of their time. Off to one side was where the parents slept, and opposite to that was where the children slept. There was a tunnel that connected the main room to a smaller cave, which was where they stored their books. Finally, another tunnel connected to the book room led up to the outside world.

Shal found his father waiting for him in the book room. He had cracked open a volume while he waited, and was so intent on his reading that he didn't notice his son's presence until he came close.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

"Well why else would I be here?" Shal replied.

His father looked up at him disapprovingly. "Sarcasm is the lowest form of humor, Shal," his father said, "and I would prefer that you don't use it."

"I guess that's just one thing that I'll have to work on," Shal said, smiling.

"What's so funny?" his father asked.

"You don't read," Shal pointed out.

"True. I was just doing this to look busy," his father said.

And with that, they left in search of that night's dinner. The sky was dark when they exited the lair. The sun had almost completely set, and a few faint stars were visible. Versvechverthicha sealed the lair with a large boulder, to conceal it from passersby. He knew that they had to be careful, especially after what had happened last time.

Since Shal was too little to fly very fast, he rode on his father's back. Versvechverthicha made sure that Shal would not fall, found an area of level ground, and began to run in that direction. He picked up speed, spread his massive wings, and, with a tremendous leap, became airborne. He beat his wings to propel himself into the air. It was windy that night, and that made it easier to fly, since dragons use the updrafts to support their weight. He managed to grab one, and up they went. But he made sure not to go too high, so that they wouldn't be seen. One could either fly very low and fast, or fly really high up in the clouds, in order to avoid being seen.

They veered sharply to the left, in the direction of one of the nearby farms. Versvechverthicha knew that this farm had hundreds of cattle, so one or four wouldn't be missed. They swooped down and landed softly not fifty feet from the fences. The house was very far from here, so they were pretty sure they wouldn't be found. Shal jumped down and looked up at his father, ready to go.

"You have to be very, very quiet when you want to grab a live meal," his father whispered, "And be sure that it's difficult to see you. Now, I'm going to sneak up and grab one of those cows, making sure that it doesn't make a sound. When you're old enough, try using magic to silence the area, which I am going to do, so don't bother trying to talk to me. And finally, try not to scare the other cattle, because they will probably run away, out of the silenced area, and make a whole lot of noise."

Shal nodded in understanding. Versvechverthicha began to whisper in a strange, unknown tongue, and moved his hands in complex gestures. He did this for about two seconds, and stopped. It seemed like nothing had happened. He began to creep up to the fence. Shal followed. When they reached the fence, his father motioned for him to stay put. Shal agreed, and sat down to watch. It was then that Shal noticed the pressing silence around him. He breathed loudly to himself. No sound. He snapped a blade of grass at his feet. No sound. He yelled at the top of his lungs. No sound. Shal smiled to himself. His father had cast a spell.

Shal watched as his father snuck silently up to an unsuspecting bull. When he was just within ten feet of it, he leaped into the air and landed on its back, knocking it over. Versvechverthicha bit hard into the back of its neck, and the bull went limp. Shal didn't know whether or not it was dead or just knocked out. His father dragged the body toward the fence and left it there for Shal to guard.

Versvechverthicha repeated the process three more times. When the last cow was dead in a pile with the rest, he took a small piece of dark black cloth from out behind his left horn. He then began to unfold the cloth until it was six feet wide. He then laid the cloth on the ground. Shal crawled over the fence and looked more closely at the cloth. He touched and what he felt surprised him. He felt nothing. Where the cloth was, there was a void, an empty space. He then realized what this was: a portable hole. He could see down to the bottom, ten feet below, which was slightly brighter than the rest. His father then began to push the lifeless cows into the hole, which was not difficult considering his strength. After storing the last cow, he folded up the cloth back to its original size and tucked it back securely behind his left horn. Versvechverthicha motioned for Shal to come. He jumped on his back, and they were on their way back home.


	3. Chapter 2: Higher Education

Chapter 2: Higher Education

"So where did you get that portable hole thing?" asked Shal. "I never even knew we had that."

"I've had it since before you were born," replied Versvechverthicha. "Cost me quite a lot to come by it. I always use it when I go hunting. Makes things so much easier to carry."

They were flying home, after a successful hunt at the cattle farm. Nobody spotted them, which is somewhat hard to believe considering the size of Shal's father (he was over 20 feet long from nose to tail). The sun had set and a crescent moon was visible in the clear night sky. They landed softly at the boulder, Versvechverthicha moved it aside, and they entered.

Shal's father placed the portable hole on the wall and let its contents spill out onto the ground. They divided evenly, according to who ate the most, and the meal began. Now dragons do not usually cook their food before eating it, since their digestive tracts are particularly resilient, and they do not catch food-borne bacteria or parasites very easily. A dragon could eat rocks and wood if the situation was dire, mostly due to their amazingly efficient metabolisms, and the fact that the energy from their breath weapon is used to aid in digestion. Therefore, the meal began almost as soon as the cows hit the floor. It was a very messy and bloody sight to see.

Dragons can eat an entire meal in probably less than ten minutes, but they usually spread this time by putting short breaks in between eating frenzies, to leave room for savoring the flavor and for conversation. During one of those breaks, Shal's mother, Calohexitharas, asked if Shal knew why Versvechverthicha permitted him to go hunting.

"It's because I'm the oldest," he replied.

"Partially," his mother replied. "It has to do with your maturity. Me and your father feel that you are old enough to start learning how to live on your own. Your father will be taking you hunting more often and-"

"Are you throwing me out or something?" Shal asked jokingly.

"No, no, no, Shal, we're not throwing you out. We just want you to be educated enough when you feel it is time for you to move on. That is why we plan on enrolling you in boarding school."

Shal gasped. "Boarding school? Why do I have to go to boarding school?"

"Because, intellectually endowed as we are, we lack the proper facilities to teach you everything, so home schooling is out of the question."

"But where will we find a dragon boarding school?" Shal asked, confused.

"You won't be going to a dragon boarding school," Calohexitharas replied. "You will be going to a human boarding school."

"What? Humans?" Shal said, becoming discouraged. "Why do I have to learn with those guys? They're too stupid to teach me!"

"That's not true, Shal. This school is specially trained in teaching the ways of magic."

Shal's ire quickly changed to excitement. "Magic? I'm going to be learning how to wield magic?"

"There is a small school out in the country that I've been scrying," Shal's mother said, motioning to the scrying pool. "It is not too expensive, and it is pretty close to here, so it t should do." For those of you who don't know, scrying is magically viewing something from a great distance away, such as through a crystal ball or a scrying pool.

"So, what do you think? The choice is up to you, Shal," his father said.

There was a pause, as Shal thought out the issue, weighing each pro and con in his mind.

Upon reaching his conclusion, he said, "Okay."

Everyone had gone to sleep. Everyone, except for Miirikekessearenk, who could not sleep. She crept quietly up to Shal, who was sound asleep, and she poked him in the side until he woke up.

Groggily, he said, "Whuh? What's goin on?" He looked over to Miir. "What's the matter?"

"I can't sleep," she said. "I can't stop thinking about how you're going to boarding school."

Shal got up and sat. "I still can't believe it myself," he replied.

"It's not fair," Miir said, frustration all over her face. "Why do you always get the special attention?"

"I was born first, and that's the way it is." He saw that that did not help much. "Look, if you were born first, you would have gone to boarding school instead of me. Mom and Dad are just doing what they think is best for us. I wouldn't doubt that they will teach you how to hunt and send you to boarding school when you are old enough."

"It's just not fair," Miir said, pouting.

"Fate is a cruel mistress at times, but one must remember that life does not revolve around fate," Shal said, imitating wisdom.

"That sounds like you read it out of one of our old tomes," Miir said, a smile slowly spreading across her face.

"Life is long, and your chance to attend school and receive the education of life will come in due time," Shal said. "There's no need to rush."

"I know. I'm sorry I got angry at you. I'm just gonna miss you. None of us have been apart for more than a couple hours, and now you're gonna be gone for nine whole months."

"Everything will work out in the end. I'll bet you it will."

He gave his little sister a hug and bid her goodnight, and she crept off to her side of the cavern.

Shal rolled over and quickly fell back to sleep, a sleep filled with wondrous dreams. He dreamt of wielding unimaginable power. He dreamt of living forever as a god among dragons, of attaining a level of greatness never before seen in the world. And in his sleep, he smiled.


	4. Chapter 3: It's called what?

Chapter 3: It's called what?

His mother woke him up early, earlier than usual. Earlier than he wanted to.

"No, wait!" Shal said, still dreaming, "Come back! I didn't get my teddy bears!"

"Wake up, Shal," Calohexitharas whispered, nudging her son. "We have a big day ahead of us, and we need to leave early."

"Teddy bears?" Shal asked, confused. He remembered last night. "Wait, why do we have to leave now?"

"To sign you up at boarding school," his mom replied. "Hurry up."

"You didn't sign me up yet? You just tell me that I'm going to boarding school and not let the school itself know that I plan to attend?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Okay."

Everyone else in the lair was fast asleep. Quietly, they crept into the main chamber, grabbed a small piece of last nights' cattle, and headed out.

It was still dark out when Calohexitharas moved the boulder aside. But that didn't matter. It would be light enough when they reached their destination. Shal jumped on his mother's back, and she ran towards the hills around the house. Moments later, the pair soared high into the air, catching several updrafts as they flew high up into the clouds. The clouds were patchy that day, so they had a clear view, yet were barely visible due to their altitude. When she reached an adequate height, she turned gracefully and headed south. It was going to be a long flight.

The pair continued at this height for almost four hours. Shal had fallen fast asleep on his mother's back. Even in sleep, he managed to maintain enough of a hold on her back that he would not fall. Calohexitharas turned her head around and, poking him with her chin, woke him up. He sat up with a start, and almost fell. He looked to his mother.

"We're here," she said.

Quickly they began their descent, spiraling downward in wide turns, and then straightening out over what appeared to be a very, very large lake. Abruptly, the lake became a field of short, green grass. Shal looked up, and was awed by what met his eyes. Ahead, beyond the field, was a beautiful castle, standing tall against the forest of green around it. It was made of what appeared to be many different types of stone, including granite, limestone, and marble. There were several towers, some with parapets, others topped with tilting, slated roofs. A long, dirt path led up to the castle, and the path curved off to the left, leading along the forest and out of sight. At the other side of the field, he saw what appeared to be a small, wooden hut. Its windows were dark.

They flew along the ground for a while until they came close to the castle, where Shal could see how incredibly large this awesome building was. They landed softly in front of it, about fifty feet from the main entrance. Shal jumped off his mother's back and landed on the cool grass.

"Is this it?" he asked excitedly.

"Yes," his mother replied. "Welcome, Shal, to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Shal stifled a giggle. "You're kidding, right?"

"No. That's what it's called. I don't know why."

Shal could not help himself. He fell to the ground and burst out laughing. He rolled around, clutching his sides.

"Hogwarts?! That's so stupid! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

He could not stop. The name just sounded so amusing to him. His mother tried to calm him down, but he just could not stop laughing. His laughter attracted the attention of a man walking up the path, towards the castle. The man was short, about 5'5" tall, and wore long, flowing robes. He looked to be in his late thirties or early forties, and, strangely, a turban sat perched atop his head. He seemed kind of squirrelly and skittish. He heard Shal's unending laughter and went to investigate, yet froze in his tracks, paralyzed with fear, when he saw who had arrived at the school that day.

"Excuse me, sir," Calohexitharas asked. "I wish to speak with the headmaster of this school. Could you please get him for me?"

The man, still shaking with fright, slowly nodded, and began to back away from the two dragons. After cautiously retreating for a few paces, he turned around and ran full tilt into the castle.

The air whistled past him as he ran through the corridors in the school. About halfway to the headmaster's office, he ran into an elderly woman wearing dark robes. She had her brownish red hair tied back in a bun, and a pair of spectacles adorned her wrinkled face.

"Professor MacGonagal," the turban man said, winded, "There is an… important…um…visitor here to see P-Professor Dumbledore."

"Well, what are you waiting for?" said Professor MacGonagal. "Go tell him."

"Well, you see, they're…dragons," turban head said.

"What? Dragons? You must be mad!" said Professor MacGonagal.

"N-No, I'm n-not. If you j-just look out the w-window…"

Conveniently, there was a large window in the corridor near where they spoke. Professor MacGonagal peered out the window at the front lawn. She gasped when she saw them standing there.

"This is unexpected. We must inform Professor Dumbledore immediately."

The pair continued up to a large gargoyle statue ensconced into one of the walls. Professor MacGonagal stood in front of it, quickly recited a password, and the statue began to rotate. With a loud rumbling sound, the statue rotated to the side and a spiral staircase slid into view. They both proceeded upwards. At the top of the stairs was a large wooden door. Professor MacGonagal hastily opened the door.

"There is an urgent visitor for you, sir," she said.

Shal, after his torrent of laughter subsided, began to grow impatient.

"Where is he?" he whined to his mother.

"Shush," she replied, "We don't want to look foolish in front of these people. They'll be here soon."

She was correct. Not thirty seconds after she said those words, a trio of humans walked out the door to meet them. One was the turban-headed man they had seen earlier. The second was an elderly woman in dark robes. The third was flanked by the other two. Based on the way he carried himself, he was obviously the headmaster. He was very old, but his age could not be estimated due to the waist-length, white beard obscuring most of his face. He wore a pair of half-moon spectacles and a blue robe embroidered with white stars and crescent moons. A short, pointed had, with its tip bent towards the back, sat atop his head.

"Greetings," said the elderly man. His voice was slightly raspy, yet very powerful and confident. "I am Professor Dumbledore. I am the headmaster of this school. This is Professor MacGonagal…" He motioned to the woman. She nodded. "…And this is Professor Quirrel." He motioned to the turban-headed man, who was still very afraid.

"Hello, Professor Dumbledore," Shal's mother began, in english. "I am Calohexitharas, and this is my son, Shaloxeroligon." She nodded to her son, who smiled at the humans.

"You wished to speak to me about something?" Professor Dumbledore asked.

"Indeed, yes," said Calohexitharas. "I wish for my son to be enrolled at your school of magic."

Dumbledore nodded, concerned. "I think we'd better go inside."

The three humans turned around and headed toward the doors of the school. The two dragons followed close behind, but when they reached the door, Calohexitharas motioned for her son to stop.

"I'll be with you in a moment," she said to the three. They nodded and continued onward, slowly.

Shal was confused. "What's the matter?"

"Look into that hallway," his mother said. "Do you think I can fit into there?"

Shal did not respond, yet he understood.

"Close your eyes for until I tell you to open them," she said.

Nervously, he acquiesced. He heard his mother begin to chant in a strange tongue. Right then he knew she was casting a spell. Immediately after he thought that, she stopped chanting, and he could hear a strange, squishing sound, which made him shudder. Almost immediately as it began, it ended.

"Okay," said a voice that wasn't his mother's, "you can open them."

Shal opened his eyes. Where his mother stood was a human woman, wearing a flowing green dress, her flame red hair falling over her shoulders and down her back to about her shoulder blades. Shal knew what had happened: his mother had polymorphed into a human.

"Let's go," his mother said.

_I'll never get used to this_, Shal thought. Still slightly nervous, he followed his mother into the castle, and met up with the three other humans.

They continued through the corridors of the school. Shal marveled at the craftsmanship that went into the castle. It was so beautiful, and so large. The high, vaulted ceilings, the arching corridors, the intricately carved statues, they all made Shal smile. He was especially impressed by the realistically carved gargoyle statue. Professor Dumbledore spoke the command word, and the statue moved aside, making room for a spiral staircase. Shal was not used to spiral stairs, so he cautiously ambled up them after the others. They opened the door and entered into Dumbledore's office.

It was an amazing place. There were book everywhere along the walls, and potions were neatly stacked alongside many of the shelves. Many other items lay on shelves or tables or in cabinets, and Shal had a feeling that almost all of them had magical properties. Sitting in a cage above Dumbledore's desk was a beautiful bird. It was about the size of an eagle, and was covered in feathers of red, orange, and yellow. It looked casually at Shal, and he thought he saw a glimmer of intelligence in its eyes. Dumbledore sat and encouraged Calohexitharas and her son to do the same. He then motioned for the other two humans to leave.

"Now, you wish for your son to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?" Professor Dumbledore inquired.

Shal giggled to himself, but a quick glance from his mother shut him up fast.

"That is correct," she replied.

"You do realize that it is not entirely customary for dragons to attend this school, or any school for that matter? In fact, this is the first time I have encountered a dragon that was intelligent enough to talk to."

Calohexitharas leered at him, but then quickly changed her expression to mild amusement. "I guess the ones you have met were not true dragons, then? But no matter. My request remains the same."

Dumbledore thought for a moment. "Well, there are no rules forbidding dragons from attending this school."

Shal smiled. "I guess I'll see you in September, then?" he said.

His mother glared at him, and he sat in silence.

"The tuition is not a small amount," said Dumbledore. "Will you be able to pay for it?"

Calohexitharas chuckled to herself. "Of course. That should be the least of our concerns."

"I would be more than happy to let him attend, especially because his…non-human upbringing would be a welcome addition to the learning experience. But then again, he would be one dragon in a school of humans. Are you sure that he is willing to attend a school in which he is the only one of his kind?"

Shal nodded to his mother, obviously more concerned with learning to use magic.

"I assume he can read and write in English?" Dumbledore asked.

"Indeed. In fact, we make it a point to teach our children how to understand and speak different languages. And Shal is one of the few dragons blessed with the manual dexterity to write."

Dumbledore smiled. "There is one small matter," he said. "We have a dress code here. Every student has to wear school-provided attire."

Calohexitharas thought for a second. "Well… you could waive that policy in this one instance, out of convenience? I mean, it would be too costly to specifically tailor several school uniforms for the body of a dragon. The manufacturers would have to draw up a whole new design to follow. And besides, it's not like he goes streaking or anything foolish like that. But let's not delve into the physiology of each species here."

Dumbledore blushed. "Well, in that case… I guess there is no other reason why he cannot attend this school. You will be receiving your acceptance letters in the mail, along with a list of classes and supplies to purchase. I hope to see your son in the fall. Good day."

They shook hands, and the two dragons left. Shal smiled to himself, anxious to obtain the magical ability he had been longing for.


	5. Chapter 4: Stuff and Stuff

Chapter 4: Stuff and Stuff

The return trip home was mostly uneventful, with occasional questions from Shal to break the silence. He was still curious about what it was going to be like. School, and a school for magic at that. It was all so new, so alien. In a matter of days, his life had changed drastically, from living an ordinary life in the country to receiving education from someone other than his family. On top of that, if his suspicions were correct, he was going to be spending a large amount of time away from home, and away from his family. Nervousness joined the excitement, and a spark of anxiety began to form inside his heart. That anxiety became worry when they reached their home in the hills of Britain.

As his mother moved aside the boulder, Shal came up to her and asked another question.

"Do you really think I should go?"

"Of course, you…" his mother began. Upon releasing the boulder on the ground, she looked to her son and saw his dismay. "What's wrong? You look worried."

"It's all just so much for me," Shal said. "Life was normal. Then, all of a sudden, I'm going away to boarding school to learn magic."

"I thought you were excited about learning magic," his mother said, concerned.

"Well, I am. However, I realized on the ride home that…this is going to be the first time I'll be away from home, and from my family, for more than just a few hours."

They went inside, and his mother sealed the entrance way. "Shal, this is all part of growing up," she said. "You will have to leave home someday, and you will find yourself a lair all your own. We cannot look after you forever."

"But Mom, I'm just eleven years old," Shal said, distressed. "I'm still a kid. I don't want to have to go out on my own yet."

"You aren't," his mother said, trying to comfort him. "You are going to school. You're not moving away for good."

"I'm gonna be the only dragon in an entire school of humans," Shal said, on the verge of tears. "I'm gonna miss you, and Dad, and everybody else."

"Don't be that way," Calohexitharas replied, holding her son close. "It's not even a whole year. Just nine months. Your father and I will write to you often. Concentrate on your studies, and try to make new friends while you are there. And be strong. Don't let the humans see you upset like this."

Shal sniffled a little bit. "Okay. I'll be fine." He gave his mother a hug, and they went down into the main chamber.

After the day they visited Hogwarts, Shal's life returned to normal. He read and listened to his music. His parents had managed to obtain both electricity and an internet line, so the family had access to the net. Shal had recently purchased a copy of StarCraft: Brood War for the computer, and he played online all the time. He almost completely forgot about boarding school. He was too busy pwning with the Protoss. Those noobs could not take his 1337 skillz.

Two days later, while immersed in a tough game of Lurker TD, his father returned from hunting with something strange. Shal told his teammates g2g, and logged out. Turning around, he saw his father clutching what appeared to be an owl. It was flapping its wings madly, but its efforts were in vain due to Versvechverthicha's prodigious strength. He released the bird, and it flew around in rapid circles on the high ceiling of the cave. It hovered in place for a second, and Shal noticed it was carrying something in its talons. The owl then released that something, and it drifted lazily to the floor. Shal knew it to be a letter. He rushed to retrieve it. Meanwhile, his father ordered one of his sons, Hyjoxar, to climb up, grab the bird, and guide it out of the cave.

"Strange," Shal said. "It's addressed to me. I never get mail." On the back, in bright green (_green?_ he thought) letters:

Shaloxeroligon

The Cave under the Ground

North Winsington

Yorkshire

Suddenly, he realized who it was from, and opened it, ravenously. His siblings gathered around. He read the letter to himself. It went thusly:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

_of_ WITCHCRAFT _and _WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

Dear Shaloxeroligon,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours Sincerely,

(Nigh unintelligible signature)

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

Shal smiled. "What's it say?" Miir asked.

"It says…I've been accepted!" Shal exclaimed.

His siblings cheered and patted him on the back. His brothers each gave him a complementary punch in the arm.

"Wait," Shal said. "It says, 'We await your owl by no later than July 31.' What does that mean?"

The owl returned from outside, since Hyjoxar was not strong enough to move the boulder back into position. Calohexitharas suddenly realized what it meant.

"We have to write a letter of reply," she said, "give it to the owl, and return it to the sender."

Shal snickered. "That's a weird way to get snail mail."

Verselathearbensvelk, his eldest sister (who was about ten), asked, "Why don't they just use spells of _sending_? It would be so much easier."

"They're humans," said Askoort, his second oldest sister (about eight). "They're stupid."

The children laughed.

Calohexitharas called Shal over to her. "I need you to write a reply letter. That owl can't just sit there forever."

Shal nodded. He went to the supply alcove, retrieved a piece of parchment and some choice writing utensils, and quickly scrawled, "Dear Professor Dumbledore. I agree to attend Hogwarts…" he paused to swallow a chuckle, "…this autumn. See you in September. Signed, Shaloxeroligon."

He folded it up and handed it to the owl. It picked it up in its beak, flapped its wings, and flew out the lair into the night. Versvechverthicha quickly sealed the cave.

The days passed by uneventfully. Shal pwned online, and everyone else did what they enjoyed most. Finally, around the middle of August, Shal remembered something.

"Mom?" he called, still facing the computer monitor. "Could you come here a minute?"

She walked up behind him and said, "What is it, Shal?"

"I just remembered something," he said. "We have to buy books and equipment for school."

She cursed under her breath. "Well, I kind of wished you had told me sooner. Go get your letter."

Shal said g2g to his team, logged out, and hurried to retrieve the letter. Little did he notice the first time he read it that there were two additional letters lined up behind the first one. One was a materials list, which he ignored and put to the side, and the other one was strange. It was hand-written on a piece of light-blue parchment.

Dear Calohexitharas (Shal noticed that her name was misspelled.),

I have taken the liberty of writing this to make your preparations for this school a little easier. Our currency system is different from that of the muggles (non-magic folk). We use gold galleons, silver sickles, and copper knuts as our coinage. Other currencies can be exchanged for these at Gringotts bank. The one place that is best for purchasing books and equipment is Diagon Alley. There are numerous shops there, and the prices are cheap. If you do not know the way there, I have taken the liberty of enchanting this letter. All you have to do is hold the letter with both hands and say "butter-hopscotch" and you will be whisked away to Diagon Alley. Repeat this process to return to where you began. I suggest changing your form before you use this letter.

Sincerely yours,

Professor Albus Dumbledore.

He handed the letter to his mother, who read it quickly. She smiled at the end.

"What?" Shal asked. "What's so funny?"

"It's not that it's funny, it's that it's interesting. I'll be right back."

Calohexitharas left Shal wondering. What was so interesting? He remembered it mentioning "changing her form." He became worried when his mother returned, carrying a large burlap sack. A loud jingling sound came from its contents.

"Shal," she asked, "you read the letter, right?"

He nodded.

"Do you think a dragon would really fit in a city of humans?"

He shook his head, realization entering his head.

"Close your eyes until I say to open them," his mother said. "And try to stay calm. This may feel… a little weird."

Shal shut his eyes, tightly, out of fear. His mother began to chant in that strange tongue, and that all too familiar squishing sound coming from his mother's direction. It ended almost as fast as it started. She then began to chant again, the same chant, but with slight variations. Immediately after it ended, Shal felt the strangest sensation. He felt like he was growing, like his body was being shaped anew. He felt as if he were being stretched against his will, being forced into a new shape by unseen energies. That disturbing squishing sound reappeared, but it was coming from him. He was so utterly repulsed that he wanted to run away screaming, but he knew he had to keep his calm.

What seemed like an eternity in a gelatinous hell was mere seconds, and they passed before he could even realize it. His mother commanded him to open his eyes.

He did so. The world around him was less focused, in details that were less sharp than before. The room seemed darker than he was used to. Shal then realized that he was standing on two legs. He looked down at himself. Where there was once the body of a dragon, a thin, human form met his eyes. He was clothed in all black, wearing a long-sleeved, button-down shirt, and jet black khaki pants. On his feet were black shoes that came to a point. He then noticed his hands. His skin was soft, and not scaled, which was a very alien sensation. His mother, who was in the body of that beautiful human woman from before, directed him toward the scrying pool. It was difficult to walk on two legs after eleven years of being on four. He took his first, cautious steps toward the scrying pool. It was still, showing only the reflection of the cave above. He looked into it, nervous about what he might find. He saw his face. He had flame-red hair, light freckles, eyes of the richest turquoise, and a short, semi-pointed nose. He withdrew in surprise.

"Well, what do you think?" Calohexitharas asked, in a voice not her own.

"Um…" Shal said, realizing the new sound of his voice, as well, "…It's…different…to put it simply…"

"I guess we had better be going, then," his mother replied.

She then _polymorphed_ his father, who had come to join them, into a human. He became a tall, burly man with a beard, wearing a loose-fitting fleece shirt and denim pants. He lifted the burlap sack, which was obviously filled with gold from their hoard, and grasped the paper with both hands. Shal and his mother did the same on the opposite side of the paper.

"Well," said Calohexitharas, "here goes nothing. Butter-hopscotch!"

Immediately after she said this, all three of them felt a strange pulling sensation, like they were being lifted bodily by their centers of mass. The world melted away into bright light, and they were transported through a swirling world of blue light. Almost as quickly as it began, it ended. They were thrown onto the ground, which had become hard brickwork in place of the dirt floors of the lair. They stood up and looked around.

The sight that met their eyes was incredible. There was a busy street leading off into multiple directions, and each side of the street was lined with shops that sold anything and everything. There was one for cauldrons and potion-making supplies, one for material components and ingredients, one that sold random junk from all over the world, and many, many more. Where there were no shops, there were roadside vendors shouting out their great deals on whatever their products were. As they turned around, they saw a sign above their heads that said "Diagon Alley."

"Well," said Versvechverthicha, hefting the bag of wealth over his shoulder, "I guess we could buy just about everything you need here."

"First," said Shal, "We have to go to Gringotts and exchange our money."

They made their way through the bustling streets, looking round every corner, until at last they came to Gringotts bank. _I'm surprised we didn't see it sooner; it's so big,_ thought Shal. It was a monolithic structure, made from white limestone and pane-glass window. It had the feel of a government building, possibly where the legislature convened. It felt cold and uncaring, a feeling of cash and greed.

They entered in and saw, sitting at rows and rows of desks, were ugly-looking little people. Each one was wrinkly, had a long, pointed nose, huge ears, and was going bald at the top. The three approached one.

"Excuse me, sir," said Versvechverthicha, "We would like to exchange our money for wizard currency."

The weird-looking fellow, who was busy, writing notes on parchment with a quill-pen, looked up. "And of what kind, pray tell, are your monies?" he asked, in a gravely, scrooge-type voice.

Versvechverthicha lifted the bag, which was about half the size of the little man, off his shoulder and placed it gingerly on the desk. The ugly man opened the draw-string and examined its contents: it was full of hundreds of gold coins.

"How many are there?" asked the pointed one.

"About one thousand gold pieces, sir," Versvechverthicha replied.

The ugly little man picked up one, examined it closely, and bit it to test how real it was. "They may be old, but they, strangely enough, will pass as galleons. You needn't trade them in."

"Oh, well, okay. Thank you, sir." And with that, they left the bank.

The three of them purchased almost everything Shal needed for school with little difficulty (an exception being when they tried to buy a set of protective gloves, which happened to come almost exclusively in dragon skin). There was only one thing left on the list: Shal needed a wand. His mother asked around, and one kind woman suggested that they visit a place called Ollivander's.

The store had a big sign out front. "Ollivander's – Makers of fine wands since 382 B.C." Shal smiled at that, and wondered if it were true. They went in. Inside, the light was dim, with dust and candles on the tables. Off to the right, shelves extended off into the darkness, and on those shelves were hundreds upon hundreds of small boxes, each one long, thin, and very old. Calohexitharas rang the bell on the countertop to alert the manager to their prescence. Not one second afterwards, a strange old man popped up from behind one of the shelves. He was thin, and was of an indeterminate age. He had a wild, crazed look in his eyes, and white-grey hair stuck out of his head at odd angles. He smiled at the three visitors.

"Ah, customers!" the old man said in a cheery, salesman-like tone. "Thank you for coming. I am Mr. Ollivander. I presume you are here to purchase a wand for your son?"

Calohexitharas nodded. "We have never bought wands before," she said, "so we don't know where to begin. What would you recommend for our son?"

Mr. Ollivander looked at her strangely, as if he did not believe that she had never bought a wand, but he shook his head and looked to Shal. "Come here, young man."

Shal came forward, hesitant. "Put out your right hand," said Mr. Ollivander. Shal did so. The old man then pulled what appeared to be a small, thin piece of dark brown wood. It was perfectly straight, and smooth. _That must be a wand_, Shal thought. Mr. Ollivander placed the tip of his wand on the back of Shal's right hand, mumbled a few words to himself, and Shal's hand began to glow yellow. Suddenly, several of the boxes on the shelves began to glow a similar shade of yellow, some more brightly than others. Mr. Ollivander walked up and down the rows of shelves, collecting the boxes that glowed the brightest. He returned with three. He opened the lid of one of the little boxes, removed a piece of wood similar his own, and handed it to Shal, who gripped it firmly by the small handle on the back.

"Well, don't just look at it," Mr. Ollivander said. "Give it a wave."

Shal waved the wand awkwardly in front of himself a few times, in an effort to make something happen. Nothing did. The wand just sat there in his hand. Mr. Ollivander took the wand and handed him a second one. It was dark, polished black, and had a slight odor of ash about it.He grasped it firmly by the handle, and waved it once, hoping that something happened. The wand began to glow white, and what appeared to be a swift breeze began to blow around him. The wand, and the air around it, then fell still. Mr. Ollivander smiled.

"It appears that you have chosen wisely," he said. "I've made and sold every one of these wands. This one is special. It is made from a redwood tree, but not any ordinary tree. It was carved from an area in the tree that had been struck by lightning, and the electrical energies are still trapped within. Its core, made from the purest black diamond infused with raw magical energy, has further magnified its power. It will strengthen any spell cast with it."

Shal marveled at the fine piece of craftsmanship that he held in his hand. He turned to his parents, who nodded in approval. Calohexitharas turned to Mr. Ollivander.

"Would it be possible to purchase a case for that wand?" she asked. Mr. Ollivander nodded and motioned to a rack on the desk. On it lay several long, thin wand cases of various different styles (one of which was coated in dragonscales, which the three of them shuddered at). Of the selection, Shal chose one made of polished steel, with a strap to put around the waist or shoulder. Versvechverthicha paid Mr. Ollivander, and they left. The three of them headed to a dark alleyway. Calohexitharas pulled out the blue sheet of parchment. The three of them gripped it by one of the sides, and she recited the command word. The world swirled blue around them, and they were lifted into the light, only to be returned shortly after to the lair.


	6. Chapter 5: And So It Begins

Chapter 5: And So It Begins…

With the first day of school just days away, the anticipation reached an apex. Shal could hardly contain himself. He would read his textbooks (for they were fascinating, and good for making fun of), he would wave his wand around, reciting the incantations within his beginners spellbook (the incantations, he noticed, were wildly different from the ones his mother recited when she used her magic). He asked his mother to teach him the verbal components of some of the spells she knew. He just could not get enough. Magic. It was what he always dreamed about. It was all so invigorating.

The day before September 1st, Versvechverthicha returned from hunting with yet another owl (Shal was sure it was the same one as last time). It held a letter, which it promptly gave to Calohexitharas. She unfolded it and read it to herself:

Dear Calohexitharas,

Enclosed in this letter is a ticket. It is for Shal, and will let him ride the Hogwarts express to the school. The train departs at 10:00, so be early. The drop off point is at Platform 9¾ at King's Cross station in London. Don't be late.

Sincerely,

(Yet another nigh-unintelligible signature)

Albus Dumbledore

Shal looked at the ticket, puzzled. First of all, he hadn't any clue where King's Cross station was. Second, what was with the random platform number? 9¾? _Humans must be really screwed up in the head_, he thought. But, a number is a number. He gave the ticket back to his mother and headed off to play Command and Conquer: Red Alert. He decided it would be best to stop worrying for now.

Shal slept peacefully that night. His dreams were of wealth and power and glory, like most people with a humongous ego. Suddenly, his mother woke him from his beautiful dreams, shaking him back to reality.

"SHAL! Wake up! We have to go NOW!" she shouted. "It's 10:00! You're going to miss your train!"

Shal sat up with a start. "Oh crap!" was all he had time to say. His mother had (thankfully) packed his school supplies into one of their _bags of holding_ the night before. Calohexitharas knew that they would never make it to the station in time, but she had a plan. She grabbed her son and his supplies, dove out of the house, and flew up high into the sky. She banked sharply to the south and sped off at a pretty serious clip. Shal was worried that he was not going to attend school, and that worry gnawed at him like a mouse at cheese, but he trusted his mother to come up with something.

Up ahead, not a half a mile away, there was a train speeding down the tracks next to one of the farms that Versvechverthicha frequented for food. Thanks to his extremely acute vision, he was able to make out the words "Hogwarts Express" painted in big red letters on the side of one of the cars. As they drew close to the train, Shal realized what his mother's plan was. Calohexitharas flew down low, just above the train, straining to stay aloft. She reached back, grabbed hold of her son, quickly wished him the best of luck, and tossed him down on top of one of the cars. Shal hit the roof hard, with a loud thump. Lucky for him, the car had ridges on top for him to grip onto. Careful not to lose his luggage, he crawled up to one of the openings between cars, jumped down, and knocked on the door.

A man (one of the employees onboard) opened the door, and Shal strode in without the man noticing. The employee looked around outside, puzzled, and closed the door. Turning around, he saw Shal standing in front of him. He gasped, and stared in fear. Shal looked back up at him, smiled, and produced his ticket. The man took it, and sighed in relief.

"Ohhhhh. You must be that new student in the memo. Welcome aboard," he said, and offered to take Shal's luggage. Shal removed his wand and case and handed the rest to the employee. The dragon then began to search for a place to sit. The train was nicely decorated, with varnished wood siding and thin red carpeting. The seats were separated into compartments, and, to Shal's dismay, all the doors were closed.

He continued onward to the next car. By his luck, one door was open. He prayed that the room was empty, and he approached and entered. Unluckily, the compartment was occupied. There were three humans, each about the same age as the other (which he assumed was around eleven), occupying the two bench seats in the small room. The first boy was to the immediate left of the door. He was of obvious Irish descent, with orange-red hair, blue eyes, and loads of freckles. Sitting next to him was another boy, who looked plain, as if he didn't have much to do around the house. He was pale, with really messy black hair, and a pair of perfectly round glasses perched atop his nose. There was a small red mark on his forehead, but it was mostly obscured by the mat of hair on his head. Across from the bespectacled one was a girl. She had long, curly brown hair, and she seemed erudite by the way she carried herself. She wore long, black robes, with the school emblem visible on her chest (Shal assumed that was the uniform). The trio was in the middle of conversation (and the redhead was actively stuffing his face) when Shal entered.

They stared at him, wide-eyed like deer in the headlights. Not a one of them moved a single muscle. Shal looked at the humans, smiled, and spoke. "Hi. I don't mean to pry, but all of the other compartments are occupied." He noticed a vacancy to the left of the girl, near the door, and hopped onto the cushy bench seat. The three humans continued to stare.

Shal sat, noticed their eyes, and said, "Oh, where are my manners. I am Shaloxeroligon, but you can call me Shal." The girl to his right (who was verrrry slowly inching away from him) introduced herself first.

"I…I'm H-Hermione G-Granger," she stuttered, still frightened. Redhead slowly swallowed his mouthful.

"I'm R-R-Ron. Ron W-Weasley." Of the three, he was the most scared. The other two turned to glasses-face.

"I'm H-Harry Potter," he said. Shal smiled with a smile that seemed to say "pleasure to meet you all." Harry suddenly looked both relieved and confused; as if he was somewhat glad Shal didn't say something. Ron took another bite of whatever chocolate sweet he was eating (Shal didn't care at the time).

"Uh," Harry said, "What…what exactly…are you?" Hermione glared at him, emphasizing the rudeness of his question.

Shal, puzzled, looked down at himself, and then up at Harry. "Isn't it kind of obvious that I'm a dragon?"

Ron coughed and gagged a little on his candy. "What did you say?" he exclaimed.

The other two rapidly shushed Ron. Shal reached for the door to close it, but couldn't reach. To Ron, he said, "Do you mind?" Ron shut the door to the compartment.

"In case you guys didn't already figure it out," Shal said, upset, "I'm trying to keep a low profile until we get to school, so that there wouldn't be people trying to run away or hunt me down."

There was a bit of an awkward silence for a while. Then, Hermione, deciding to break the silence, spoke. "Wait a second. Why would you be going to Hogwarts, of all places?"

"Uh," said Shal, looking at her funny, "to receive an education? Duh."

Ron and Hermione looked shocked. Harry managed to maintain his attitude of perpetual befuddlement. "_You're_ going to Hogwarts?" Ron said, "As a student? That's impossible. Only people have ever gone there. Well, sure there were house elves and ghosts at the school, but none of them were ever students. It's only ever been people, since the school was founded."

"Well," Shal replied, "my mother wanted me to get an education, and this was the best school in England. She spoke to Dumbledore and made a special request for me to attend. He agreed, saying that there were no rules that prohibited dragons from attending. Oddly enough, he had assumed that all dragons were stupid, animalistic creatures that didn't know what school was."

Ron was still upset, but he just sat there. "Now, Harry," Shal said, turning to him, "whenever you introduced yourself, but before you asked me what I was," he rolled his eyes, "you seemed oddly relieved about something. What's up?"

Harry's confused look took on a slightly frustrated tone. "Well, you would be the first person I've met since I found out I was a wizard that wasn't shocked and amazed when the found out who I was."

Shal's puzzled look returned. "I've never seen or heard of you before. Why should I be shocked and amazed?"

Ron and Hermione looked shocked, again. "You mean to tell me that you have never heard of Harry Potter?!" Ron shouted. The other three shushed him again.

Hermione managed to keep her cool. "Harry Potter survived being attacked by You-Know-Who!" she explained, forcefully.

"No, I don't know who," Shal said, just as confused.

"Voldemort," said Harry. The other two cringed at hearing the name.

"I'm sorry, what just happened here?" Shal said, really confused now.

"Lord Voldemort…" more cringing from Ron and Hermione "…killed my parents with some kind of hex. He used that hex on me, but I survived." He lifted the mat of hair in front of his forehead and revealed a red scar, in the shape of a lightning bolt. "It gave me this instead."

Shal nodded, understanding. Suddenly, he realized something, and began to snicker. "Heh. His name is Lord _Voldemort_?" Harry nodded. The other two cringed again. Shal looked to the others. "Voldemort!" he said, waving his arms, trying to freak them out. "Seriously, that's his name?" Shal asked, to make sure. Harry nodded again. "That is the _lamest_ name for an evil lord I have ever heard!" Shal said, and he laughed to himself. Ron and Hermione looked at him, still nervous. "Voldemort," Shal said. They cringed again. "Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort," he continued, mocking them. They just cringed, holding their hand over their ears. Shal began to laugh at them, but he noticed their irritation, and he stopped.

"Okay," began Shal, "because I don't want to say You-Know-Who all the time, and because you can't stand the word…" he looked to them, and they were already cringing. "…I'll just refer to him as Lord Gay from now on. Harry, you said that Lord Gay used a 'hex' on your parents and killed them, yet used the same 'hex' on you and it just scarred you for life." He chuckled at his double meaning. "Is there anything special about that 'hex' that I should know about?" he continued, looking to Hermione, who seemed to be the resident spell expert.

Hermione looked discouraged, as if the spell itself brought fear into her heart. "Well, it is supposedly impossible for a person to survive being hit by it. Everyone, except for Harry, has died when it was used on them."

Shal thought for a moment, and then the realization hit him. "Harry, you were more than lucky to have survived that spell. If my memory serves me correctly, you were targeted by quite possibly the single most powerful kill spell known to this world. Nothing short of divine intervention, or an inherent resistance to magic, such as that which is found in dragons, could have spared you the wrath of that spell."

The party sat there, as Shal's words sank in. Harry was utterly awestruck by the revelation. He looked at himself, puzzling over how an ordinary boy could have survived such an attack. The mood in that compartment shifted to that of somber realization.

This mood was broken when, through the door to the group's compartment, talk was heard that the train was to reach the station in less than ten minutes.

"I'm so nervous," said Shal, feeling jittery. "I just don't know what to expect."

"Well," said Hermione, "First, they will sort us into our houses."

"Houses?" Shal asked.

"The student body is divided up into four houses. The house represents the students one sees most often, where one will be sleeping, and which team one roots for during the Quidditch games." Ron's face lit up at the mention of Quidditch. Shal puzzled at the word, but dismissed it for later study, to allow Hermione to continue.

"The four houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin."

"My whole family has been in Gryffindor," said Ron, "so I'm probably gonna end up in it, too. That's not for sure, though. I wouldn't really mind Ravenclaw, but imagine if I got stuck in Slytherin."

"What's so bad about Slytherin?" asked Shal.

"That's where all the rotten people go," said Ron, "including You-Know-Who."

Shal noticed Harry grow slightly paler at the thought that he might be stuck in the house where Lord Gay had gone. But before anyone said anything else, a voice could be heard throughout the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately."

Hermione looked to the two boys in the room. "You two haven't gotten into your uniforms yet. You'd better get moving." She turned to Shal and stopped, as if she didn't know what to say. "Um…" she began, "do you even _have_ a uniform, Shal?"

"No," he replied. "Dumbledore made an exception in my case."

"If you don't mind," said Ron, "we would like a little privacy."

Hermione swiftly left. The two boys looked at Shal. "I'd go," he said, "but I'm trying to keep a low profile. I'll just turn away and close my eyes. Besides, it's not like I've never seen a human torso before." Shal swiftly pointed his head in the corner of the compartment.

When they had finished putting on their robes, the pair stuffed the last of the candy they had been munching on into their pockets. They were noticeably paler and more nervous now that they were drawing near to the school. The train slowed and lurched to a halt. All the students in the compartments made a mad rush to the exits. Shal made a point to stay close to his friends, and to avoid being seen by (or touching) anyone. The vicious stampede made its way out of the train and onto the station. A gust of cold air chilled Shal as he stepped out into the night. There were few lamps alongside the tracks, but a hooded lantern caught his attention. This lantern was special, as it was held in the hand of a man unlike any Shal had ever seen before. The man was at least eight feet tall, and had a bushy, shaggy mane of black hair coming down over his shoulders. The man's face was obscured by an equally shaggy black beard. His massive arms waved about, directing the sea of first years.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" he shouted over the crowd.

Harry, who was standing right next to Shal at the time, recognized the man.

"Hello, Hagrid," he said to the giant traffic cop.

"All right there, Harry?" Hagrid replied, smiling. He motioned for the throng of newbs to follow him down a dark path, away from the station. There was sharp-looking brush on either side of the path. Shal was not paying much attention to what was said, he was so caught up in the moment. _I'm actually doing it_, he thought. _I'm actually going to learn magic. This is amazing._

The path led down to an absolutely massive lake. On the far shore, atop a high rise, was the magnificent Hogwarts, in all its glory. It looked even better than last time Shal saw it, with glowing bright windows and an ominous air about it. The near shore boasted a large fleet of what appeared to be rowboats, but there were no oars. Shal quickly jumped into a boat with Ron, Hermione, and Harry. He ducked down low, next to the bottom, so as not to be seen. A strange boy, whom Shal did not recognize, came up to their boat and grabbed a seat next to Hermione. He was whimpering, as if he had lost something. Thankfully, the boy did not see him lying there, and must have thought that there was room for one more.

Hagrid grabbed a boat for himself, made sure that everyone was seated, and shouted, "FORWARD!" Immediately, the little boats began to move, as if pulled along by invisible ropes, toward the castle.

Dead silence pervaded the micro-armada. Not a single soul spoke. All were too busy gaping up at the school, in its majesty. The boats drew up close to the cliff face at the base of the school. Just before they collided with it, Hagrid ordered for everyone to duck down (which Shal was already doing), and the fleet passed under a wall of hanging ivy, which had concealed a passage under the school. There, the boats found an indoor harbor, and the first years and their giant caretaker disembarked. Shal stayed close to his three friends, still paranoid about being seen. The strange boy walked slowly after them, downtrodden, but Hagrid approached him, presented him with a toad, and patted him on the head. The boy became ecstatic at the sight of his lost toad.

The giant led the group up a set of stone stairs and out onto the front lawn (Shal didn't remember there being a staircase last time he visited). He approached the front door and knocked thrice, hard.


	7. Chapter 6: The Hat

Chapter 6: The Hat

Almost immediately after Hagrid knocked, the door opened at a remarkable pace. Standing in the doorway was the same elderly witch from before: Professor McGonagall. She took over for Hagrid and led the throng of first-years into the school. It was just as magnificent as he remembered, but now it had a more warm and welcoming feel to it. The high, vaulted ceiling was difficult to see, due to the dim lighting.

The huddled masses yearning to breathe free were led into a room that was far too small to properly accommodate them. Shal was almost trampled, and, due to his stature, he could not see anything but legs all around him. It almost induced a sense of claustrophobia. Thankfully, three sets of legs belonged to his friends, and he stuck close to them.

Professor McGonagall made a speech about the houses, and about the points system, in which "triumphs" (he assumed meant good grades and service to the school) would earn points, and "rule-breaking" would dock points. They were to be sorted into their respective houses when she returned. And with that, she left the chamber.

Not three seconds after the door slammed shut behind her, a young boy made his presence known. He was about Harry's height and body size, but was different from him in every other way: straight, greased-back blond hair, an overconfident smirk on his face, no glasses, and, obviously, no scar. He was looking at Harry when he spoke.

"So it's true," said the smirker. "Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts."

An unsettled murmur swept through the crowd like the shockwave of an earthquake. It was as if they were in the presence of a movie star. Blondie continued.

"This is Crabbe," he said, motioning to a chunky kid to his right, "and Goyle," motioning to another chunky kid on his left. "And I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

_And I'm Bond, James Bond_, Shal thought to himself. Almost as if he read his mind, Ron let out a chuckle. Malfoy turned.

"You think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask what yours is. Red hair, freckles, hand-me-down robe. You _must_ be a Weasley." He spat the name like a curse word.

"You'll find, Potter," he continued, "some wizarding families are much better than others. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there." He offered Harry his hand.

Harry refused. "I think I can tell for myself, thanks," he said, a smile of defiance on his face.

Before Malfoy could respond, Professor McGonagall reentered the room and commanded the mass to form one line, and follow her out of the room. The students were all anxious to get on with it, so the line was more of a line-shaped clump. This worked to Shal's advantage, as his friends involuntary maneuvered around him, obscuring him from view. Harry was in front of him.

The mass of students moved as one out of the waiting room and into what Shal could only assume (he could barely see through the wall of legs) was a very, very long room, probably the dining hall. He could see upward, however, and there appeared to be no roof on the building. He heard Hermione whisper about bewitching the ceiling to look like the sky, but he was too nervous to care. The mass continued onward, then suddenly ground to a halt. Students jostled into each other at the sudden stop.

Shal made a brave move. He stuck his head out between the legs of those around him and out into the aisle, so he could see what was going on up ahead. Professor McGonagall took a small footstool and placed it on the floor. She then produced an old, grimy, worn-out pointed wizard's hat and placed it on the chair. Then the hat did something (which Shal was surprised at; hats generally don't do anything) unexpected. It formed a mouth out of what appeared to be a rip in the base, and began to sing:

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty, But don't judge on what you see, I'll eat myself if you can find, a smarter hat than me.

"You can keep your bowlers black, your top hats sleek and tall, for I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat and I can cap them all.

"There's nothing hidden in your head the Sorting Hat can't see, so try me on I will tell you where you ought to be.

"You might belong in Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart, their daring, nerve, and chivalry set Gryffindor apart.

"You might belong in Hufflepuff, where they are just and loyal, those patient Hufflepuffs are true and unafraid of toil.

"Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, if you've a ready mind, where those of wit and learning, will always find their kind.

"Or perhaps in Slytherin you'll make your real friends, those cunning folk use any means to achieve their ends.

"So put me on! Don't be afraid! And don't get in a flap! You're in safe hands (though I have none) for I'm a Thinking Cap!"

_Geez_, thought Shal. _It looks like some people have too much time on their hands._ The rest of the students already seated in the hall cheered for the talented headpiece, then became silent, awaiting what came next.

Professor McGonagall was heard over the din of the audience.

"When I call your name," she said, "you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted."

She then called the first name on a long list (which touched the floor).

"Abbott, Hannah!"

The small girl approached the stool, donned the hat, and sat on the stool. The hat ruminated out loud as it thought, mumbling for a short time over its decision. Then finally, it shouted at the top of its lungs.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Shal heard much cheering from one of the tables to his right. As the girl was seated, the professor called the next name. The next girl did the same thing and was sorted. She was assigned to Hufflepuff as well. When the third name was called, Shal knew the names were in alphabetical order (_humans always like it so neat and orderly_, he thought). He zoned out, thinking to himself about the upcoming year. A name snapped him out of his reverie.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Shal poked his head out from between the legs (carefully), so he could get a better view. She donned the hat hastily and sat. He heard the hat mumbling about how smart she was, but it still seemed like a tough choice for the thing. Finally, after a little while, the hat made its decision.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The Gryffindor table erupted in applause for their new member. Shal became nervous. _Where will I be assigned?_ he thought. He then zoned out for a long time until…

"Potter, Harry!"

The crowd suddenly became very quiet. Harry moved away from Shal and approached the bench. As he did, whispers erupted from the masses, whispers of disbelief and suspicion. It sounded like an open window on a windy day. Harry sat with the hat. The hat's face contorted in concentration. This looked like a tough one.

It spoke out loud. "Hmm… Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes – and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting…so where shall I put you?"

After a pause, the hat continued. "Not Slytherin, eh? Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help on the way to greatness, no doubt about that – no? Well, if you're sure – better be GRYFFINDOR!"

Gryffindor table erupted in thunderous acclaim as Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He smiled as he sat down beside the others.

Shal noticed something. The hat paused for a moment. Shal realized what that meant: Harry was communicating with the hat. He was thinking what he wanted, as if in his mind he was saying, _I do not want to go to Slytherin_. That would help Shal, because his mind was made up. He was going to go to Gryffindor. Two of his friends were in it, and he would be lost without them. It was by chance he met them in the first place. The other houses might not be as welcoming. He wouldn't chance it. That gnawing anxiety returned to his stomach as he waited for his name to be called. Finally, after another ten minutes or so…

"Shaloxeroligon!"

A murmur went up through the crowds at the name. "What kind of name is that?" "Huh?" Shal maneuvered his way through to the front of the line, causing surprised yelps and gasps as he passed by the others. Finally he reached the stool. The murmuring that had accompanied Harry's arrival was replaced by a large, simultaneous gasp. Then, silence. Not a single word was spoken. Shal reached the stool, removed the hat, and sat facing the crowd (note: Dragons are built much like large cats. They therefore sit like them.). Never before had he seen so many wide, staring eyes. He donned the hat, and the world went black around him as it passed over his eyes.

Shal knew it was his time to act. _Okay, hat, _Shal thought._ I know you can hear me. It will not be you choosing my house. It will be me._

The hat spoke in response. "And why do you think I should listen to what _you_ say, of all people?"

_Because_, Shal responded, _as a self-proclaimed being of intelligence, you use logic to deduce which house to place a student it. My logic is undeniable. And I'll tear you up and eat you if you don't do what I say._

"I'd like to see you try!" the hat replied incredulously.

_Just hear me out, _Shal thought._ I consider myself to be the most powerful being in this building right now. My tremendous ego will fan the flames of greed, and I will use any means necessary to achieve those goals of greatness, so Slytherin would be a perfect fit_. The hat tried to interject, but Shal kept going. _Even though I am a greedy and self-absorbed creature, I can empathize with other's feelings, and I will remain loyal to friends even to the brink of death. And as for patient, I am going to live for another three-and-a-half thousand years! I can wait it out_. _Hufflepuff is also a perfect fit. _The hat thought as Shal continued. _I am also a very smart individual. The fact that I am trying to use logic to persuade you should be evidence enough that my highly evolved brain makes me a perfect candidate for Ravenclaw. _The hat nodded. _ And finally, this tremendous ego makes me believe that I am stronger than everything else, and is therefore unworthy of my fear. I can face any danger with vigilance and courage, and I will stick up for those I love most. This bravery makes Gryffindor the obvious choice._

The hat was silent, waiting. _You see what I did?_ Shal asked. _I have proven to you that I am an equal candidate for every house at this school. But there is one thing that makes Gryffindor outweigh the others. That is the fact that I have friends there. If you were to put me in the other houses, I would be isolated and ridiculed. Because I have friends in Gryffindor, I would be more welcomed, and would therefore perform better as a student. You wouldn't want my time at this school to be a living hell, would you?_

The hat was dumbfounded. It just sat there.

"You have a good point," it said, after much deliberation. "In that case, the house for you is…GRYFFINDOR!"

_Thank you_, Shal replied, as he removed the hat and got up.

The dining hall was silent. At each of the four long, wooden tables, not a person said a word. After a long silence, clapping could be heard from the staff table behind him. It was a single person: Professor Albus Dumbledore. He applauded Shal, clapping slowly. As he did, other teachers at the table joined him in applause. Then, very gradually, the students joined their teachers in applause. Then the Gryffindor table erupted in thunderous cheering and clapping as they welcomed their new member. Shal strode proudly to the table and grabbed a seat near Harry and Hermione. Shal noted that the Slytherin table wasn't clapping as much as the others. However, the Gryffindor table was more than cheery. They smiled nervously as he looked around the table.

The cheers simmered down as the readings continued. More names were read, cheers were had, and people sat. Finally…

"Weasley, Ronald!"

Ron walked shakily up to the stool, put on the hat, and sat.

"Heh, another Weasley," the hat said, smiling, "I know just what I'm going to do with you! GRYFFINDOR!"

Ron breathed a heavy sigh of relief as he removed the hat and grabbed a seat near Harry. The last few students were sorted into their respective houses, and the hat was put away. It was then that Shal noticed that the table had beautiful, shining plates and flatware on it. All of a sudden, he became very hungry. Dumbledore stood and spoke.

"Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddiment! Tweak! Thank you!"

He sat back down, and the crowd cheered for him. Shal didn't think he was very funny. Harry was just confused, as usual. But just as he thought this, the table became filled with food, and lots of it. There was every kind of meat imaginable, and it was all cooked. Shal was used to eating food raw. In addition, there were vegetables piled high onto shining serving bowls and so much more. Shal marveled at the magnificent spread for a moment, and then dove right in. The humans were shocked. Shal just took a fistful of what he wanted and shoved it in his mouth. Then, when he was done with that mouthful, he got another. He made a tremendous mess on his plate and on his face. As he was chewing a succulent chicken drumstick, he noticed the stares.

"What?" he said with his mouth full.

"Do you have any manners?" said Hermione, obviously upset by the display.

"Oh, sorry," said Shal, swallowing. "This food is delicious! Where did you get the recipe?"

"Not what I meant," she said. "You're supposed to use a fork and knife, not your hands! And don't eat so fast! You'll get sick."

"…oh," Shal said, looking around the table and seeing nice clean plates and faces. He looked sheepishly down at his own plate, which was a mess of meat scraps and other bits of food. He noted the napkin, and wiped his face. With some difficulty, he managed to eat his fill using flatware. He was still eating when something caught his eye.

He saw several translucent figures pass through the walls of the dining hall and float towards the tables. Shal knew them immediately to be ghosts. One cheerily approached their table.

"Aaaahhhhh! The UNDEAD!!" he shouted, jumping up and preparing to drive the ghosts away. "Back, you fiends! Back!"

"Hello, Sir Nicholas," said a boy that Ron had previously identified as his older brother Percy.

"Hello, Percy," the ghost replied. "And as for you," he turned toward Shal, "Whatever you are, I do not take kindly to being mocked in such a way!"

Hermione turned to Shal. "Relax. The ghosts here are friendly. And besides, it's not like they can hurt you."

Shal knew otherwise, but he sat and tried to calm himself down.

"I know you!" said Ron. "You're Nearly-Headless Nick!"

"I prefer Sir Nicholas de Mimsy," the ghost replied, correcting.

Another boy piped up, a boy the others called Seamus Finnigan. "Nearly headless?" he asked, placing obnoxious emphasis on nearly. "How can you be nearly headless?"

"Like this," the ghost replied, and with that, he grabbed the left side of his head and yanked sharply. His head came loose from his shoulders, but a small piece of skin kept it attached. Where his head used to be, a bloody stump remained. The kids were disgusted.

"Dude!" said Shal. "That is so cool!"

Nick smiled and repositioned his head. He then struck of conversation with the others. Shal continued to eat, but just as he was reaching for another serving, the food disappeared. It was replaced by desserts of every sort: pies, cakes, pastries, puddings, ice creams, and so much more. Shal, however, was disappointed. For some reason that they do not like to talk about, dragons do not like sweet foods. Shal was no different. He looked around for something to eat, but he could find nothing to his liking. Still, he was relatively full from the main course that he could just sit back and relax. He listened in on a conversation to his left.

"I'm half-and-half," said Seamus Finnigan. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mom didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."

The others chuckled at the joke. Shal did not. Ron turned to the strange boy with a toad from the boat ride. His name was Neville. Neville then began to talk about his parentage (he was raised by his grandmother) and how his family wished he was born a wizard, and how his "magic" surfaced. Shal was confused. Where he came from, wizards, witches, warlocks, and sorcerers were all different types of arcane spellcasters. But here, the words were used interchangeably, and they thought that if one of your parents was a "wizard" or "witch" and the other wasn't, then you were a "half-wizard." Strange indeed.

He then overheard Hermione talking to Percy about Transfiguration. That made Shal happy. He was anxious to learn how to use the various different types of spells, and Transmutation (why they called it Transfiguration here confused him) was one of his favorite schools of magic. This excitement was cut short when he heard Harry cry out in pain. He turned to face him. Harry was clutching the scar on his forehead.

"What happened?" Shal asked, concerned. "You okay, Harry?"

"Yeah, I guess," he replied.

Shal looked warily around. In the direction Harry was facing, Shal saw Professor Quirrell facing the other way. Beside him, he saw a man he knew he would never forget. The man (Shal knew he was a teacher) had greasy black hair that came straight down from his head to just above his shoulders, a hooked nose, and a pale complexion. He was giving Harry a look of hatred, of malice.

"Do you know that guy, Harry?" Shal asked, turning back the other way.

"Percy," Harry asked, "who is that next to Professor Quirrell?"

"That's Professor Snape," Percy replied. "He teaches Potions, but everybody knows that he wants to teach Defense against the Dark Arts. He's been after Quirrells' job for years."

Not a second later, the desserts on the table vanished, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet.

"Ahem – just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Shal snickered.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

_I'll take that as a challenge_, Shal thought to himself, smiling.

"And now," Dumbledore continued, smiling broadly, "before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!"

He produced his wand, waved it awkwardly, and formed a long string of words that Shal could tell was a song.

"Everyone pick their favorite tunes," said Dumbledore, cheerily, "and off we go!"

The resulting cacophony was more than Shal could bear. Everyone was singing the same words, but each one sang to a different beat and rhythm. About half the school sucked at singing, and none of it blended well. It was one loud, jumbled mess. Shal noticed that many of the students weren't singing at all, but were just shouting the words. When the horrid "music" was over, Dumbledore smiled again and sent them off to their rooms.

Percy and a few other boys (whom everyone else referred to as the Prefects) led all the first years out of the dining hall. The crowd was then led through a twisting maze of left and right turns and secret passageways. There were pictures along the walls. Many of those pictures depicted humans, and when someone approached, the humans in them came to life, most often waving, looking at the students, and saying hello. After much traveling, the group ground to a halt. Percy stepped forward from the group and approached a large picture in the wall. The picture was of an overweight lady in a pink silk dress. She turned to Percy and bid an ominous question.

"Password?"

"Caput Draconis," Percy replied to the lady. With that, the picture swung out like a door in the wall to reveal another secret passageway. This one led to a nice, comfy room filled with many chairs and a crackling fireplace. Percy identified it as the Gryffindor common room.

Percy immediately divided the first years in two groups by gender, and directed each group to their respective doors in the common room. The boys ascended a set of spiral stairs (which Shal still found particularly treacherous), and found their dormitory, complete with several four-poster beds and their school equipment placed at the foot of each one. Every boy was very tired, so they got into their pajamas right away and dozed off the instant they laid down. Shal, on the other hand, was not as tired as the rest of them. He looked around the dormitory, and suddenly, a strange feeling came over him, one that he had never felt before. It was homesickness. He missed his home. He missed his computer. But most of all, he missed his family. He sat next to the window and looked out at the night sky. The stars were shining brightly. His sadness was followed by words of his mother. She said to be strong, to not show fear or weakness in front of the humans. He took those words to heart, wiped a tear from his eye, headed off to bed.


	8. Chapter 7: Class Start Now!

(I just have a few things to say before I continue with the story, which you probably already know about. Please keep in mind that this is my first novel, and not just that, it's also the first writing of my first novel. I made mistakes, and some of the wording sounds a little awkward. But rest assured that I plan on making several revisions to this story. Just wait till I finish the first draft. And now we continue with…)

Chapter 7: Class Start Now!

Shal was pulled out of dreamland and back into reality by a strange jostling and poking sensation in his arm. He opened his eyes, and saw Ron looking at him. He looked impatient and worried at the same time.

"Shal, come on!" Ron said. "Get up! It's time for classes to start!"

The dragon stood up with a start. _I slept through breakfast_, he thought. This was the first time he had ever slept in a human bed. It was ridiculously comfortable compared to the cave floor he had slept on at home, and, as a result, he must have slept too deeply to feel the hunger pains that were just now punching him in the gut. He dove out of bed and collected his books (which were still inside the _Bag of Holding_ his mother had given him). He followed Ron out of the dormitory and down into the common room, where Harry stood, waiting.

"Come on, Ron! We're going to be late for class!"

The trio raced to their first class. As they ran through the halls, they noticed the staring eyes. Always staring, never blinking, especially at Shal. Harry got his fair share of whispers and "Oh, look! Did you see his scar?" But Shal only got stares and gasps, as if he were feared and infamous, like Billy the Kid entering a quiet little saloon on a hot summer day. This made Shal feel isolated, and a creeping loneliness snuck into the back of his mind. But there were more important things to do. Finally, after many wrong turns and trick stairs and secret passageways and whatever else they had put into the school to impede their progress, they made it to class…late. Professor McGonagall was standing in front of her desk, already cross with them.

"It appears," she said, "that some of you need to learn to better manage your time. Would it help if I transfigured Mr. Weasley into a pocket watch?"

"It was all Shal's fault for sleeping in!" Ron protested. Shal stared at Ron, angrily.

"Then perhaps you would make a better alarm clock?" Professor McGonagall suggested. She directed the trio to their seats. Shal was very upset. It was his first day, and already he had slept through breakfast AND got on bad terms with the teacher of the class he was most looking forward to.

"As I was saying," the Professor said, "Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

She then pointed her wand at her desk, spoke a few oddly imprecise-sounding words, and _polymorphed_ her desk into a pig and back. Shal was very impressed. He knew he was going to like this class. But this excitement lessened when she made them take notes, and lots of them. Shal was not used to this much writing, and his hand was starting to cramp up. Professor McGonagall then presented each student with a match and instructed them to turn it into a needle. Despite what he saw the Professor do, Transmutation magic was surprisingly difficult for the students. But that was not the case for Shal. He didn't know yet, but his wand's unique qualities, combined with the fact that he was a dragon (all dragons have an affinity for magic), made it possible for him to cast spells with more potency than any of the humans in the room, with the possible exception of the teacher. He read over his notes a couple times, practiced in the air a bit, and pointed his wand at the match. He recited the words, making sure to avoid any mispronunciation. His wand glowed black faintly for a second. Almost immediately, with a small pop, the match became a needle.

Hermione saw this and immediately became jealous. Her match was still a match, but it had become silver and pointed on one end. Professor McGonagall looked at Shal's needle and smiled. She held it up for the class to see. Shal grinned broadly. He liked this class.

After Shal's success with his first Transfiguration (that word still got to him) class, things weren't so bad. He found it easier to get to each of his classes, though it was still a chore, with all the staircases that acted up or disappeared when you stepped on a certain spot, and the school's poltergeist, Peeves, who always picked the worst moment to rear his impish little head and throw something at you. And then there was Filch. _What a rotten name for a person_, Shal thought. Argus Filch was the school caretaker. He watched for students doing things they weren't supposed to, and he was always grouchy and strict. _Not pretty to look at, either_, Shal thought. He had this cat, which he called Mrs. Norris, that was just as strict and grouchy and ugly as he was. She was always seen following students around and spying on people.

But still, things were good for the young dragon. His other classes were somewhere between entertaining and bearable. Herbology was interesting, as the various magical plants and fungi that Professor Sprout showed them always kept him guessing as to what they did (Shal didn't know much about vegetables). Charms was a bit confusing. Where Shal came from, a charm was a type of spell that one used to control a subject's mind and make him become one's friend. Here, a charm was any sort of dumb little spell that could do anything from turn a book green to make a couch disappear. The teacher, Professor Flitwick, was entertaining to watch, as he was about three and a half feet tall and had a high, squeaky voice.

History of Magic was an absolute snoozefest. Shal really disliked that class, not because it was boring, but because it was horribly inaccurate. Shal's great-great-grandparents were alive when many of the events in the books were happening, and they were completely different from the stories his ancestors told. He knew the teacher, Professor Binns, was wrong, so he just ignored everything he said. And then, there was Defense against the Dark Arts (or DADA as the humans called it). Shal had high hopes for that class, but people didn't take poor Professor Quirrell (which sounded a lot like squirrel, Shal noticed) seriously. They always asked him about dumb things like the vampire he met and the zombie he had defeated to get his turban. Shal knew that no wimpy little man could have taken on a vampire and lived to tell about it.

This first-week high ended abruptly on Friday, when Shal learned that they had Potions that day. At first, he thought that it would be fun, because potions are useful, and learning how to make them might pay off in the long run. Ron was going on about how Snape always favored the Slytherins, as he was the head of their house. At the mention of Snape, Shal suddenly felt an aching sensation inside, as if he knew he was not going to have a good time in that class.

Potions class was held in the dungeons of the school, which made Shal uneasy. He could have sworn he still saw blood on the walls. They sat, and he looked once again into the cruel and uncaring visage of Professor Severus Snape. His piercing gaze kept the room dead silent as he took roll.

"Ah, yes," he said, and Shal could feel his arrogance dripping out of his long black hair. "Harry Potter. Our new – _celebrity_."

When he got to Shal, Snape intentionally had trouble pronouncing his name, and rather than asking, he just smiled, waved his hand, and went on. It was like a slap in the face.

Upon completion of roll call, he stood and strode confidently to the front of the class.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking. As there is little foolish wand-waving here," Shal had to agree with him on that, "many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through hu…" he paused a second, looking at Shal "a creature's veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death – if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Shal was impressed. Despite his seething malice, Snape was good at making speeches. Ron and Harry were not so pleased. Hermione was desperate to prove herself worthy of his praise.

"Potter!" Snape said, demanding his attention. He got it. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry stared, again befuddled. Hermione knew and let Snape know with her hand held high. Snape ignored it.

"I don't know, sir," said Harry, quivering slightly.

Snape sneered at him, then asked another question.

"Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Same result. Harry didn't know, and neither did Ron and Shal, but Hermione did.

Snape then turned to Shal, his fiendish smirk making him tense, but he held firm.

"Let's test you now, dragon," he said. "What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?

_Aha, the clouds have lifted_, Shal thought, for he knew the answer to that one. He organized his thoughts, and began.

"There is no difference between monkshood and wolfsbane. They are the same plant, which goes by a third and more acceptable name of belladonna. It is very useful in the prevention of Lycanthropy, more commonly known as werewolf disease. If someone consumes a sprig of belladonna within one hour of being bitten, he stands a better chance of staving off the disease before it takes hold. However, helpful or not, belladonna is still poisonous, and will make you dreadfully ill if consumed."

Shal looked at Snape in a defiant smile. Snape didn't smile back.

"It appears that fame isn't everything, Potter," he said, glowering over the boy. He turned back to Shal. "And dumb luck won't save you in this class."

And with that, the potions master instructed them to break off into pairs and begin concocting a basic potion that will cure boils. Shal thought that potions should be able to do more than that, almost as if this was just simple alchemy. But he did as he was told. Snape noticed Shal not wearing his protective gloves and approached him.

"A point from Gryffindor for not obeying safety precautions," he said, correctingly.

"Professor," said Shal, "I don't need to wear them. I'm good."

"Another point for talking back," said Snape as he walked away.

"I don't have to worry about anything burning me in this class. I'm immune to all that stuff."

"I'm sure," Snape replied, blowing him off.

This was too much for Shal. He was already fed up with Snape's snooty demeanor and hurtful words. Draconic hubris got the best of him.

"You want proof? I'll give you proof."

Shal looked around the room. He spied just what he was looking for: a large container filled with a powerful acid. Luckily, it was on the bottom shelf. Shal left his seat, grabbed the container, and pushed it to the front of the room. The class all turned to watch.

Snape tried to stop him. "Stop, you idiot! You'll get yourself killed!"

Shal wouldn't listen. He had removed the lid of the container before Snape could get to him. A gush of steam rose from the greenish colored liquid as it bubbled and hissed violently. The class stared at him, never looking away. Hermione was worried.

"I'll show you, Professor!" he said, and with that, he thrust his arm into the seething liquid. The class gasped loudly. Professor Snape stared in horror. They expected to hear Shal screaming, but he was noticeably silent. He was smiling instead. He slowly pulled his arm out of the container. It was completely unscathed. Shal grabbed a quill pen off one of the desks and put half of it in the liquid. He pulled it out, and the class saw that the submerged portion had been completely melted away.

"Not proof enough for you?" said Shal to the Professor. He then proceeded to lift the container, put it to his mouth, and start drinking it. That was too much for Snape. He dove at Shal in an attempt to stop him, but he missed as Shal stepped to the side. The dragon had downed a quarter of the bubbling brew before he set it down. Snape had become more pale than usual. He quickly sealed the container and snatched it away from Shal. The class gawked, wide eyed as Shal walked back to his seat and continued his work. Hermione was particularly upset, but they all stayed silent as they kept working. Gryffindor lost yet another point for that little stunt, but Snape never again asked Shal to put on his gloves. The rest of the lesson proceeded uneventfully, until Neville had badly screwed up his potion and given himself a ridiculous amount of painful boils. Snape blamed Harry for not telling Neville what to do, and Gryffindor lost still another point.

When they finally left that dungeon, Shal knew for a fact that Potions class was going to suck the entire year. It was not going to be fun. Still, he remembered what his mom said, and he did his best to be strong. As they were walking back, Shal overheard Harry and Ron say they were going to go see Hagrid, the really big guy from when they got off the train. He was just about to go ask if he could come when Hermione approached him.

"I need to talk to you later. Meet me in the library at three," she said, and went off. Shal weighed his options, between Hagrid and Hermione. _What could she want that was so important?_ Shal thought. _Then again, what could Hagrid do that I couldn't go see later?_ He elected to go talk to Hermione.

Shal had never been to the school's library before; he never had to go. He marveled at the sheer number of books. It dwarfed the collection that his parents had back at their lair. There were books about every subject imaginable. Hermione took a seat at one of the tables. Shal sat across from her.

"We'll have to keep it down in here," she said, "or else Madam Pince will be upset." She motioned to an old lady at the desk, who gave the pair a distrusting scowl.

"So…what did you want to talk about?" Shal asked.

"What were you thinking in there?!" Hermione asked in her forceful whisper. "You could've been killed, or at least seriously injured!"

"I was fed up with Snape and his pompous attitude," Shal replied, trying to keep his voice down, "so I wanted to teach him a lesson. Besides, I'm a dragon, and I'm completely immune to the harmful effects of acids."

"You're lucky Snape didn't give you detention, or worse, have you thrown out!"

"Hey, it's not my fault he's a stuck-up jerk. I was just trying to garner a little respect from him."

"Well, I don't think you got it. Shal, he's a teacher, and you have to respect them in order to learn what you need to learn."

"Okay, fine," Shal said, sulkily.

There was a pause, and Shal noticed Hermione was still upset.

"What's wrong now?" he groaned.

"It's just…" she began, "Remember back during our first Transfiguration class?"

"Yeah," he said, confused.

"You turned your match into a needle with no effort at all in just a few seconds, and it took me all class just to turn it silver. How did you do that? How did you become so good at magic if…?"

"…If this is the first time I've cast a spell?" Shal finished for her.

"Yeah. I think it might be because you are a dragon and I'm only half-witch."

"My race might play a role in it, and I don't know what you mean when you say 'half-witch,' but I think part of it might be from some things my mother taught me. She said that I would be able to cast spells when I'm old enough, but she began to teach me some of the ways of magic. She taught me that one needs absolute focus when using magic, and I learned how to obtain that focus. Also, I learned that pronunciation and specific hand gestures are very important, and that even a slight slip in either can cause a spell to fail. She taught me the words and hand motions to some of the more basic spells, and I took to practicing them so I would be ready when the time comes."

Hermione was very interested in what Shal was saying. "Could you, perhaps, teach me some of the things you learned from your mother?"

"I probably can't do it all in one sitting, but I'll try sometime soon." And with that, the two of them left. Just as they were heading back to the common room, they saw Ron and Harry coming back from Hagrid's. Harry looked like he had something to say, and that that something had to have been very important.


	9. Chapter 8: Rules? What rules?

Chapter 8: Rules? What rules?

"A break-in?" said Shal. "At Gringotts Bank?"

"Yes," said Harry, "and it happened on my Birthday! It might even have happened while me and Hagrid were there!"

Harry was very flustered by this new turn of events. Hermione, however, was more calm and controlled.

"Harry, calm down," she said. "They were probably just after some galleons or something."

"That's the thing!" he replied worriedly. "They weren't after money. They broke into vault 713, the very vault me and Hagrid visited earlier that day!"

_There must have been something very valuable in that vault_, Shal thought. Almost just as he thought this…

"There must have been something real important in there!" said Ron.

"Maybe," said Harry, "but I find that hard to believe. All that was in there was this grubby little bag, and Hagrid took it with him when we left."

"Did you see what was in the bag, Harry?" said Shal after much silence.

"No. Hagrid put the whole thing, bag and all, into his front pocket. Then he told me not to tell anyone about what happened."

"Gee, Harry," said Shal. "I've never seen anybody keep secrets as well as you do."

Ron chuckled to himself. Harry shot Shal a dirty look.

"I wonder what Hagrid did with that package?" said Hermione.

"Probably still has it with him," Ron replied.

Then, Harry remembered something else. "Do you think Hagrid is being entirely honest with us?" he wondered.

"Why?" Shal asked, suspicious.

"Well, whenever I brought up Snape in the conversation, he seemed all too eager to dismiss my problems and change the subject."

"Maybe you're right," Shal ruminated, "and maybe he is just trying to protect you. There very well may be things about Severus Snape that you would be better off not knowing about."

Harry thought for a moment, the replied, "I guess you're probably right."

Suddenly, Ron's stomach growled audibly, and many students began rushing passed them into the great hall. In the flurry of questions, they all lost track of the time. The quartet began to walk off to dinner, but Hermione stopped. The two boys went off without noticing, but Shal saw her pause.

"Shal," she said, "about earlier today."

He remembered. "What about it?"

"Could we keep… that… a secret between the two of us? I'm not sure that Harry and Ron would-."

"Sure," Shal interrupted. "I understand."

She smiled. "Thanks."

One thing that Shal wished he had with him was his music. He had amassed a very large collection of CDs and longed to listen to them. However, Dumbledore had mentioned at one point in the year that any "muggle-made" electronic devices would malfunction and (most likely) break if brought on Hogwarts property. Shal missed his music so much. That missing had grown too intense one day. He decided to ask Ron about the matter. Shal went downstairs from the dormitories to the common room. He was surprised to see a large crowd in front of a small notice on the bulletin board. There were many unhappy faces at the sight of this note. It stated that on Thursday of that week, they were to start flying lessons…with the Slytherins.

"Typical," he heard Harry say. "Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy."

_Flying? On a Broomstick?_ Shal found that kind of hard to believe. When he read about humans, brooms were just used for cleaning floors, not for flying.

He decided to ask Ron. "How, exactly, do you use a broomstick to fly?"

Ron looked down at him with a look of both surprise and amusement. "You're joking, aren't you?" When he saw that Shal wasn't, he continued. "You put the broom between your legs and you sit on it. Then you kick off the ground and fly."

"And this works with any old broom or mop or whatever?"

"Uh, no…" Ron said, perplexed at Shal's questions. "It has to be a magic broom."

The realization hit Shal like a brick to the head. "Oh! I'm so stupid! Why didn't I think of magic? I guess I'm just used to flying under my own power."

Then Shal remembered the reason he came downstairs. "Sorry, I had an ADD moment. I came down here to ask you if there was some sort of magical…device that played music."

"You mean like an instrument, like a piano or something?"

"No," Shal replied, slightly frustrated. "In the 'muggle-world,' there are these things called CDs. They store music on them. They're kind of like those old phonographs that you see in old movies."

Ron was puzzled, but at the mention of phonograph, the analogy made sense. "Ah, I get it. Phonographs are old technology. Nowadays, there are these magical devices that can play any song you want on them, and they can choose new songs for you based on what you like."

_Like music TiVo_, Shal thought to himself. "Where might I be able to get one of these…things?"

"They're called MusicPhones." (I know it's a lame name, but I couldn't come up with anything else.) "They sell them at Diagon Alley, among other places."

Shal made a point to tell his parents to pick up one (or whatever) for him. Finally, his music jones will be fed.

Thursday came suddenly (there was an unexpected amount of homework over the past few days). While they were enjoying breakfast (Shal discovered a passion for scrambled eggs and bacon) the mail arrived. Like usual, the mail arrived by owl. Each owl flew down and dropped its cargo in front of its intended recipient, which meant that it often times landed in his or her breakfast. Unusually, Shal received a letter. This was the first one he got since he came to Hogwarts. When the letter landed in front of him, a pang of guilt punched him in the gut, as he remembered that he promised to write every week. He tore open his letter, which had a fair amount of egg and bacon on it. He noticed that it was typed (his parents probably used magic to use the keyboard). It read:

Dear Shal,

I hope that things are going well for you at school. Your father and I are very proud of you. Things are great over here. Your sister Miir has been very much anxious to grow up and follow in your footsteps. She practices hunting her brothers to no end, much to their chagrin. I let your brothers use your computer and CDs, but I make sure that they leave them exactly as when the found them. I've noticed that you haven't written yet, which is to be expected. You probably have too much homework. I'm curious to hear what you have to say about the goings on at Hogwarts. How are your classes? Have you made any friends? When you have time, please write back.

With love,

Mom

Shal smiled to himself as he read the letter. He put it with his school books so he would remember. Looking down the table, he saw that Neville Longbottom had also received a parcel. He opened it and revealed a fist-sized glass ball filled with smoke.

"It's a Remembrall!" he exclaimed. "Gran knows I forget things – this tells you if there's something you forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red…oh…" The orb turned blood red in his hands, and he frowned. He forgot something. Shal snickered to himself. He then spied Draco Malfoy and his fatties walking mischievously toward Neville, and Shal could tell that he planned on picking on Neville. Though he was sheepish and weird, Neville didn't deserve any flack from Malfoy and his thugs. Just before Malfoy walked passed, Shal stuck his tail out and tripped him. Malfoy hit the floor with a humiliating thud, and Shal quickly withdrew his tail and pretended nothing had happened. Ron and Harry laughed among themselves, and Hermione scowled at the young dragon. Draco got up, brushed himself off, and turned to Shal.

"You've got some nerve to mess with me, dragon," Malfoy said angrily. His thugs flanked him and stared menacingly.

Shal didn't turn around. "You've got some nerve to _accuse_ me of messing with you, dragon wannabe!" _Heh, Draco_, Shal thought to himself.

Malfoy grimaced at the insult, but just before he acted on his feelings, Professor McGonagall walked passed and saw the three of them standing near the Gryffindor table.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing," said Malfoy, trying to avoid trouble. "Just saying hello to my best buddy Shal here."

Malfoy and his cronies walked off. Shal stuck his tongue out at them as they left.

That afternoon, the students of Gryffindor house proceeded out to the grounds outside. It was a beautiful day. Not a cloud in sight, and the breeze blew lightly. Shal just wanted to leap up in the air and fly for hours on end, but he knew he wasn't allowed. _Stupid humans_, he thought to himself, _with all their rules and whatnot_. They marched over to the Slytherins, who had arrived early. There were bunches of old, ratty broomsticks lying on the ground in front of them. Madame Hooch, their instructor, appeared and directed the students to where they were to begin. She had a short crop of grey hair, a commanding presence about her, and bright yellow eyes. They each approached one and stood next to it, like the Slytherins were already doing. The instructor then addressed the whole group.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," she called to the students, who did so, "and say 'Up!'"

The students all proceeded to do the same. Harry's broom flew swiftly up into his waiting hand. However, the rest of the students (including Shal) had more difficulty. Hermione's just rolled around a little, and Neville's didn't even move. Shal had to yell loudly at the top of his lungs to get his broom into his hand, but, after much forceful coaxing, it complied.

_Now_, Shal thought, _for the tricky part_. Madame Hooch instructed them all to mount their brooms, and came to each one to adjust their grip. When she came to Shal, the look on her face said that she didn't know what to do.

"Don't worry," said Shal. "I'll figure it out." And with that, Shal did his best to stand up on his hind legs, using his tail and his wings for balance. He was used to balancing on his hind legs, but he never did it with a broomstick in his hands. After much wobbling and falling over, Shal resolved his issue by using the broom like a walking stick.

"Now," said Madame Hooch, "When I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle…three…two–."

Neville shot up into the air. Apparently, he got nervous and jumped the gun. He flew higher and higher up away from the earth he missed so much. He quavered and shook with pure fear all over his face. Suddenly, he lost his balance, and plummeted like a stone. Shal dove into the air and tried to catch him, but he missed.

Neville hit the ground with a heart-stopping thud. There was an audible crack as he landed, and he just sat there in a pile on the grass. Madame Hooch rushed over and picked him up. He had broken his wrist, and his nose was bleeding. Gingerly, she took him off the field. As she left, she threatened to expel anyone who left the ground.

As soon as the pair had left, Malfoy seized the opportunity. He laughed and pointed at poor Neville.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

All the other Slytherins joined him and laughed. The Gryffindors, however, had become a mixture of indignant and outright furious at those bullies. Shal, Ron, and Harry were some of the more angry ones.

"Shut up!" they all shouted, almost at once.

"What're you going to do about it?" Malfoy jeered. "Are you sticking up for that fat cry baby?"

He then spotted a glimmer in the grass. It was Neville's Remembrall. He hastily snatched it up and waved it at the trio, mocking them.

"Look what I found!"

"Give it here," Harry said, struggling to remain calm.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for that fat lump to find – how about up a tree?"

Shal ran at Malfoy, in an attempt to get the Remembrall from him, but he climbed on his broom and was in the air before Shal could reach him. He growled up at the blond-haired bandit, but he refused to leave the ground, because he knew he didn't want to get expelled.

Harry, on the other hand, was not so afraid. Just before he left the ground, Hermione ran at him. "No! Don't do it! Madame Hooch said not to move. You'll get us all in trouble."

But Harry didn't care. He left the ground (with surprising ease, as Shal noticed) and flew up to Malfoy's height, which was about level with the trees. The girls were all distraught. Ron was cheering him on. Shal was thoroughly frustrated. _Why doesn't he care about the rules_? _This is so not fair_! Harry charged at Malfoy and almost clipped him in the head. Then, to the shock of all on the ground, Malfoy chucked the glass orb high into the air and flew for the earth. Harry dove downward and tried to race the Remembrall to the ground. With just a foot to spare, he snatched the plummeting orb and leveled off, tumbling to the ground.

Everyone was clapping and cheering. Shal was impressed at the skill of such a beginner. The cheering and applause was cut short when…

"HARRY POTTER!!!!!"

Everyone whirled about and saw Professor McGonagall running up to the students, her face a mask of both shock and rage.

She approached Harry, and he got to his feet. The professor was so upset that she was stammering, and Harry kept being interrupted by her. They were actually kind of funny to watch. She then led him off the field and back into the school.

They didn't see Harry again until dinnertime. He had some rather surprising news.

"McGonagall took me inside, where we met up with this fifth year named Oliver Wood." Ron's face lit up at the mention of Wood. "She told Wood that I was to start training as Gryffindor's Seeker."

"Seeker?!" Ron exclaimed, in utter amazement. "First years never get picked. You must be the youngest house player in about–."

"– a century," finished Harry as he continued to eat. "Wood told me."

Shal couldn't take it. Anger clouded his thoughts, and he lashed out. "This is not fair! YOU were the one who broke the rules! You directly disobeyed the teacher's orders, and you get REWARDED?!? What the heck is so special about YOU?!"

The other three stared at him, surprised at his sudden outburst. Shal was still fuming when Fred and George Weasley showed up and quietly congratulated Harry on his new position on the team. Hermione then turned to Shal.

"I think it would be best if we kept quiet about this issue, so that people don't get jealous."

Shal just wanted to scream, but he saw the wisdom in her words, and he just sat there sulkily. It was then that Malfoy and his pair of bumbling brutes approached, and the mood became sour.

"Enjoying your last meal, Potter?" he said, with an appropriate amount of swagger and malice. "When's the train gonna take you back to the Muggles?"

"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," Harry replied with confidence. However, Malfoy was here on a much more… diplomatic mission.

"Tonight, I'll take you on in a Wizard's duel. Wands only: no contact. What, have you never heard of a Wizard's duel before?"

"Of course he has," said Ron, covering for his friend. "I'm his second. Who's you're?"

After a little deliberation, Malfoy chose Crabbe as his second.

"We duel at midnight, in the trophy room."

He then left the table. Harry quickly turned to Ron, confused and worried.

Ron then explained that in a wizard's duel, the two participants cast spells at each other until their opposition is dead, or if he surrenders. A second is there to take over if the first wizard dies.

"But only proper wizards die in duels," he continued. "You and Malfoy only know enough magic to send sparks at each other. I bet he expected you to refuse, anyway."

Shal looked at the two of them. It appeared to him that rule-breaking was not a problem here. One could get away with it. He grinned to himself. _I can do whatever I want_, he thought. _These humans can do nothing to stop me_. Maybe it would be all right if he joined them, just to watch. It would be an educational experience, after all.

It was then that Hermione spoke up. "I sure hope the two of you aren't going to go through with this. It's really very selfish of you."

They ignored her. There was going to be a duel happening at Hogwarts, and there was nothing she could do about it.


	10. Chapter 9: Magic and Magical Creatures

Chapter 9: Magic and Magical Creatures

Shal dreamed. He dreamt of mountains of gold piled high in a vast underground cavern. Beautiful gems and jewels glittered and sparkled magically as he looked from one side of the horde to the other. His horde. His vast wealth. _It's all mine_, he thought. _All for me!_

Suddenly, a deafening crash erupted from behind him, and Shal awoke. Ron, it appeared, was not as stealthy as he wanted to be, and tripped over his trunk when he tried to leave the room. Luckily, the other students remained asleep. Shal snuck silently after the red-headed bandit as he descended the stairs. Harry was already down in the common room, waiting for Ron. Just before they turned to leave, a light flickered to Shal's left. Attached to that light was the arm of Hermione Granger.

"_You_!" Ron whispered loudly. "Go back to bed!"

"I almost told your brother Percy," Hermione snapped, obviously just as upset as Ron. "He'd put a stop to this."

"Tattle-tale," Shal said. He was louder than he thought, and the others whirled around, surprised to hear his voice.

"What are you doing up?!" Ron said, more frustrated than ever.

"I wanna see the duel," Shal replied excitedly. "I hope Harry trashes that greasy little punk."

Hermione was ticked. "How can any of you think of doing something like this? Are you so selfish? Are you willing to lose all those points for Gryffindor?"

"Come on," Harry said to Ron. The two exited out the portrait hole.

"Don't worry," Shal said optimistically. "We won't get caught."

And with that, he followed them out. Hermione, who was still trying to convince them to come back, did the same. She was still talking at them when Shal turned and saw that the Fat Lady in the picture wasn't there.

"Uh, guys?" he said, suddenly worried. "How are we gonna get back in? The Fat Lady's gone!"

"Not our problem," Ron replied. "We've got to go."

Shal looked at the pair, then at Hermione. He darted after them. Hermione, distraught, shook her fists and followed.

Just before Ron snapped at the girl and the dragon, Harry motioned for silence. A strange shape was found lying on the floor, and it was breathing rhythmically. It was Neville Longbottom. He sat up suddenly when they came close.

"Thank goodness you came," he said. "I've been out here for hours. I forgot the password."

"She's gone," said Hermione. "It wouldn't do you any good if you knew."

"Well," said Shal, "you can't go back to the common room, so why don't you come with us?"

Ron shot Shal a vicious stare, but he shrugged. "Fine, he can come," he said.

The five of them snuck and ran their way to the trophy room. There were hundreds of trophies, whether for Quidditch or otherwise. They all sparkled in the moonlight and Shal felt a small bit of déjà vu. As they waited, Harry looked around nervously, half expecting Filch to show his ugly head. However, Filch wasn't seen. He was heard.

"Sniff around, my sweet," they heard him say to Mrs. Norris. "They might be lurking in a corner."

The quintet got the heck out of there as fast as they could. Filch was hot on their trail. They ran crazily down random corridors, in an attempt to shake their terrible assailant and his cat. They knocked over suits of armor as they ran, which almost certainly caught Filch's attention. They opened and closed doors to block his progress, but it was no good. The last door they reached was locked. Hermione barged to the front and quickly whipped out her wand.

"_Alohomora_!" she whispered, and the lock unlocked. They quickly ran in and shut the door. Filch was talking to his cat again. He sounded stymied. As they heard his footsteps trail off, they breathed a sigh of relief. However, that sigh was quickly drawn back in.

As the group turned around, they realized that they were even less safe than before. Standing not ten feet in front of them was a monstrous creature. It would have been a normal dog had it not been for two distinct characteristics. It was absolutely massive, about five times the size of the group that stood before it. It also had three heads, each one growling and drooling angrily.

Harry acted fast. He swiftly grabbed the doorknob, and in one fluid motion, the five of them flew out the door and slammed it. They then set about getting as far away from the beast as they could. Thankfully, Filch did not show up during their retreat. The portrait opened the instant they recited the new password, and they all climbed inside. Then, the group breathed a second, fuller sigh of relief.

"WTF," said Shal, both scared and confused. Neville darted quickly to bed, too scared to stay up.

"What's wrong with them, keeping a think like that locked up in the school?" said Ron.

"You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you?" she said, her anger returning. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

Shal thought for a minute, and then said, "Good thinking. I just realized why a school, or any establishment, would keep something as vicious as that locked up in a room."

Harry and Ron turned to Shal, clueless.

"It's the guardian of a valuable item. Whatever that item is, the teachers were keeping it down beneath the trap door that that…creature was standing on. It's so simple now that I think about it."

"That must be where Hagrid put that grimy little bag that he found," said Harry.

"I hope you three are happy," said Hermione, indignantly. "We could have been killed, or worse: expelled." With that, she left for her room.

"Now that's what we call dedication to education," said Shal. "But, yeah, we should be getting some sleep." So they did.

As the quartet sat down at the table for breakfast (which included pancakes and waffles, which Shal didn't much care for), Draco Malfoy gaped at Harry and Ron. _Why hadn't they been expelled_, his face seemed to say. Hermione, however, was quite the opposite. She stayed away from the pair and refused to even speak to them. Shal was somewhere in the middle of the two groups. He was too busy pondering last night's events. He thought the most about what the something could be. Could it be an artifact of vast power? Could it be a prisoner? A portal to a distant dimension? Could it be that package that Harry had spoken of? He also wondered how one could bypass such a beastly creature. Put it to sleep? Turn yourself invisible? Take to the walls and sneak behind it?

Shal puzzled long and hard, but his ruminations were interrupted by the incoming mail. An owl dropped a package in front of Harry. The parcel was long and thin. Shal peered of Harry's shoulder as he read the card on the side. It stated that the package was Harry's new Nimbus Two Thousand, and that he shouldn't open it there. Furthermore, he was to meet Oliver Wood out on the Quidditch field at seven that night. Harry was overcome with glee, but Shal was overcome with rage. As Harry and Ron left to open the parcel, Shal sat there, sulking. _Why the hell does he get all the special attention? Why does he get expensive gifts and I don't?! This is so incredibly unfair! _ He was just about to burst out screaming when he noticed Hermione to his right. He then got an idea.

"Hermione," he asked, "did you happen to see what that package was?"

She seemed as irked as Shal was about Harry's special reward.

"Yes," she replied. "It's a Nimbus Two Thousand. I'm going to have a little talk with those two."

"Wait, Hermione, don't go," he told her as she prepared to leave. "It probably wouldn't make a difference. They won't change their minds. Furthermore, you said that you weren't speaking to them, remember?"

She paused. "You're right," she sighed. "It's just not fair to the rest of the house that they get rewarded for rule-breaking."

"I agree," replied Shal. "You know how you asked for me to teach you how to better use your magic?"

She nodded.

"Well, I think that maybe tonight, around seven, you can have your first lesson? Meet me in the library."

Hermione smiled. "Thanks," she replied excitedly. "I can't wait." And with that, the Hall emptied as students went to class.

Only when he sat down in Flitwick's class did Shal realize what he had gotten himself into. Teach a human magic? He didn't know where to begin. Shal racked his brain, trying to remember how his mother had taught him. He finally decided to go at it as if he were teaching someone how to play a game. He would look for similarities between what he was to teach and what she already knew. But how? What kind of spellcaster was she? As far as he could tell, the only thing that she had in common with anything he was familiar with was that her magic was hereditary, like that of a Sorcerer. _Wait_, he thought. _That's it!_

Shal had difficulty concentrating the rest of the day. He was thinking and planning feverishly, his train of thought chugging away without stopping. At around six thirty, he was ready. He finished his meal, and went off to the library.

He was nervous; the butterflies in his stomach were having fistfights. What if he messed up? What if he gave her the wrong information? But as quickly as these thoughts came into his head, he pushed them out. His mother had told him that one loses confidence if he thinks too much. His worries returned as Hermione walked into the library, spotted him, and sat across from him at one of the tables.

"Hi, Shal," she said. Shal noted her enthusiasm and her desire to learn. It gave him confidence.

He cleared his mind, focused himself, and began. "I hope you brought something to write with, because I have a lot to cover. Now, before I start teaching you about how to use magic, you need to know the fundamentals of magic itself, as well as some important definitions. This is so you can better understand what it is you are trying to do."

Hermione nodded, trustingly.

"The first major question: what is magic?"

Hermione thought for a second, almost puzzled. "It's kind of hard to put into words. We always take it for granted. I guess we never bothered to put a definition to it."

"True. Magic is a very abstract idea. As it is capable of doing so many different things, it is very hard to explain. I'll try to be concise with my attempt at a definition: magic is an energy that allows for the potential to influence reality in ways that one otherwise could not."

Hermione wrote this on a sheet of parchment, which made Shal uneasy.

"Now, keep in mind that the definitions I give you are not…definitive. They are merely what I think, or how I put them in my words. So don't be too upset if Flitwick or McGonagall tells you otherwise (though they might be wrong). Magic is divided into two, broad categories: divine magic and arcane magic. Divine magic is granted through worship of and devotion to one or more of the many deities that 'shaped the world.' But let's not get to far in depth with this kind. Arcane magic, the magic that you use, is a result of the caster's will or intellect influencing reality.

"There are many types of 'arcane spellcasters' in the world, but I will focus on the two main types: sorcerers and wizards."

At this, Hermione became confused. "What about witches? Aren't we considered major enough?"

"No, no, no. Your definition of witch and my definition are two completely different things. Unlike what your kind thinks, you are not a witch. In fact, I don't think I have ever seen or heard of a witch in real life. Your definition of witch is a female 'wizard.' Now let me clear things up."

Hermione became more and more puzzled as he went.

"None of the people in this school," Shal continued, "or even in your 'wizarding world' are actual wizards. None of you are witches either. 'Wizard' is a gender-neutral term for an arcane spellcaster that uses knowledge and books to cast spells. A wizard casts spells like one would bake a cake: using a recipe. He/she/it prepares each spell he wants to cast that day through meditation and complex chanting and hand gestures. As far as I can tell, none of you people do that, so you can't be wizards."

Hermione became frustrated. "Well, then, what are we?"

"That's the interesting thing," Shal replied, smiling. "To properly explain this, I'll need to give a short, semi-hypothetical 'history lesson.' As far as I can tell, dragons were the first beings to ever use arcane magic. We were born with it. It's in our blood. Then along came humans. They wanted to learn to use magic, too. So we taught them. Thus, the first wizards came about.

"Then things became interesting. Not all dragons are created equal, unfortunately. Some dragons (myself not included) have the inherent ability to change their form into any living creature they choose. Others use spells to change their form. Many decided to turn into humans and live in human lands. As they coexisted with the humans, some fell in love with them. Eventually, the first half-dragons were born."

Hermione shuddered at the thought. Shal laughed to himself a little.

"Anyway, these half-dragons inherited the dragon parent's magical ability (as well as the obvious physical characteristics), though it was slightly less powerful. They became the very first sorcerers. Then, the half-dragons mated with other humans, and the bloodline became more diluted, but the magic stayed strong. This process repeated for many generations. The obvious physical traits began to fade, but the magical ability stayed strong for a very long time. Then, it began to fade. Their magic began becoming weaker and weaker with each generation. It eventually became so weak that these sorcerers were barely capable of casting the most rudimentary spells. One day, a very smart human found a way to channel the leftover magical energy, even in the minutest quantities, and make it useable. He invented the modern wand."

Shal held up his wand and marveled at it. "Let me know if I'm going too fast, Hermione. I know this is a lot to take in, but bear with me." She agreed.

"The wand gave these sorcerers the ability to perform magic at an 'acceptable' level. But it came at a terrible price. Allow me to compare the sorcerer I'm familiar with to the 'modern wizard,' so I can properly emphasize the difference. A true sorcerer is a very charismatic individual. He draws his magical energy from the dragon's blood in his veins and uses his force of personality to influence the world around him, including his physical self. He uses complex hand gestures, exacting syllables, and material components to manifest his magic. He is capable of very powerful magic, things that you probably haven't even dreamed of. He could cause a massive earthquake, make fire rain down from the skies, kill everyone within spitting distance of himself, and stop time itself. He could even live forever, if he tried hard enough. However, all this power was very taxing for him, and as a result, he could only cast so many spells each day.

"The wand-wielding sorcerer, on the other hand, is capable of casting an infinite number of spells each day, uses no material components, and casts using syllables based on Latin (a human language), rather than Draconic, as it used to be. Unfortunately, these spell are far less powerful than the wonders the true sorcerers were capable of. Nowadays, there are very, very few true sorcerers left."

"Why's that?" Hermione wondered.

"A couple of reasons. People might have thought that breeding with dragons was improper, so they never bothered to start new lines of sorcerers. Second, dragons have become more reclusive over the years. The modern man is far too skeptical and disbelieving of things that are 'unnatural.' I guess it's the same reason why you guys don't share your secrets with the 'muggles.'

"Interesting," thought Hermione. "Now, you're probably going to teach me how to cast spells like the old sorcerers."

"No, I'm not. I can't. The draconic blood in your veins isn't concentrated enough. However, I can teach you the different aspects of such spells. Hopefully, these things will give you a foundation when you train to become a wizard."

"What?" Hermione said, surprised. "A wizard?"

"Yes. It would be a perfect fit. You have the erudite, bookish nature of a wizard. Your desire to know many different spells would only be fulfilled in a wizard's career. My only hope is that what I know can help you get started. It requires many, many years of study in order to be at least a competent spellcaster. More years than here at Hogwarts. You need to be dedicated."

Hermione seemed a little uneasy, but Shal reassured her quickly. "You don't have to make your decision now. Think on it. I believe that is enough for today." And with that, the two of them left the library.


	11. Chapter 10: Intruder Alert!

Chapter 10: Intruder Alert! Intruder Alert!

After their first lesson together, Shal began to notice that Hermione was beginning to seem a bit less confident in her classes. Yes, she was still the ace student she used to be, but now, whenever the teachers lectured, she got this look on her face that said, "Is this really true?" But that didn't stop her know-it-all intellect when they were in Flitwick's class.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing," he said, ever-comical as he stood on his pile of books and preached in helium-soaked words. Shal always had trouble keeping calm in that class. The professor then instructed the class on how to lift small objects using magical force (levitation, as Flitwick called it).

"_Wingardium Leviosa!_" the class recited as they began practicing on feathers. The class was paired up. Shal was with Neville (he was kind of a klutz, Shal began to notice), Harry was with Seamus Finnigan, and Ron was with Hermione. The last two were very irked at being placed together. _Like oil and water_, Shal thought.

As they practiced, things only went downhill. Harry's partner, Seamus, had successfully set fire to his feather, and both were struggling to cast the spell. Ron was having great difficulty making his feather move at all. He shouted the words at the top of his lungs and waved his arms like a madman trying to hail a taxi. To add to his frustration, Hermione was correcting his pronunciation.

"You're saying it wrong," she said, condescending. "It's Win-_gar_-dium Levi-_o_-sa, and put a strong emphasis on the 'gar' and the 'o.'"

"Well, why don't you do it, if you're so smart?" Ron snapped back at her. He, like Shal, obviously hated having his pronunciation corrected.

Hermione did so, effortlessly. With a swish and a flick and a "_Wingardium Leviosa!_," her feather soared into the air. Flitwick hopped up and down, applauding and cheering for Hermione in a most entertaining manner.

It was then that a second feather flew into the air and started batting people across the face. People turned and saw Shal pointing and waving his wand at different people.

"Look, everyone," Flitwick said excitedly. "Mr. Shaloxeroligon has done it, too!"

"But he didn't even say the right words," Neville said. "It was all just a bunch of gibberish and nonsense."

Shal didn't care what Neville said. He had learned to cast a similar (and more powerful) spell from his mother, and used the Draconic words instead of the ones Flitwick had said. Ron continued to sulk and was in a bad mood for the rest of the class.

"It's no wonder no one can stand her," he said to Harry as the students left the class. "She's a nighmare."

Shal saw Hermione butt into them from behind and darted off down the hall. She was obviously upset, with tears streaming down her face. He darted after her. She continued to run, even though Shal knew she could hear him. But, dragons are faster than humans are, and he eventually caught up with her, just before she was about to enter the girl's bathroom.

"Wait!" Shal said.

"Leave me alone, Shal," she replied, still crying.

"Those guys are just too insensitive. Don't let it get to you like that. Besides, he probably didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

She stopped, turned away from the bathroom door, and looked down at Shal.

"I really _don't_ have any friends!" she sobbed, crouching down next to the wall. Shal came up beside her and place his hand on her shoulder. She looked to him.

"I'm your friend," he replied softly.

She smiled at the young dragon, and rubbed the tears from her eyes. It was true. Shal really did care. He was her friend.

"Now, come on," Shal said trying to be motivating. "Let's go back to class. That is, if you want to."

She nodded. Together, the pair of them went back to class, and Hermione felt a heavy burden lifted off of her shoulders.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Classes were routine, even though people were excited about Halloween. Shal, however, had no knowledge of this holiday. He asked his friends, and they were astonished.

"What?" Ron exclaimed. "You've never heard of Halloween? How can that be?"

Hermione was more controlled. "Every year on this day, we celebrate All Hallows Eve, or Halloween for short. It originated in ancient times. The modern holiday is a combination of two older ones, one that celebrates the end of the growing season, and one that celebrates the ones who have died. There is always pumpkin carving and costumes and sweets at the parties."

Shal found this holiday fascinating. Why in the world had he never heard of it before? He planned on asking his parents in his next letter. Pumpkins being carved? How?

As they went down for dinner, Shal found the answer to his question. Amid the live bats swarming around the Great Hall, there were pumpkins suspended in midair. Each one had a demonic face with a malicious grin carved into the skin, and the soft glow of candlelight emanated from the mouths. It was truly a sight to behold, especially for one who had never celebrated such a holiday in his life.

Dinner spread out before them like usual, appearing magically on the plates and platters, and as usual, it was very good food. They had eaten for only about five minutes when there was an… interruption. The doors of the Great Hall were flung open, and wiry Professor Quirrel came running in. He was disheveled and obviously frightened as he ran up to Dumbledore. He reached the table and exclaimed:

"Troll! In the dungeons!" There was a pause, then he added softly: "Thought you wanted to know." And with that he collapsed onto the hard floor.

The entire dining hall started shouting and screaming in one simultaneous roar. Some were absolutely terror-stricken, while others were simply worried, but the noise was still deafening.

At the front table, the voice of truth rang out over the rest. It was Dumbledore. "SILENCE!!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. The hall complied, and subsided into noiselessness.

"Now," he continued at a more reasonable volume, "prefects, lead your houses to your dormitories immediately!"

The houses each got up and massed their way out the doors. The first years were terrified. Well, all except for Shal, of course. Harry looked at him, suspicious of his enthusiasm.

"What are you so anxious about? There's a troll in the school!"

"Exactly!" Shal replied excitedly. "I wanna take it on, and take it out! I'll be a hero."

"Are you daft, mate?" Ron asked, overhearing the conversation. "It's a Troll! Let the teachers take care of it."

"No. Besides, it'll be fun." And Shal crept into a clump of Hufflepuffs going in that direction. Harry was just about to let him go when he saw Snape going in that direction. He wondered why Snape wasn't down in the dungeons with the rest of the teachers. Quickly, he snuck after the dragon. Ron saw him leave. _Harry, what are you doing, you nut?_ He thought. He worried about his friend, and followed. Hermione then noticed that she was alone. She quickly looked around and saw Ron going after Harry going after Snape. She remembered what Shal had said earlier that day. "He probably didn't mean to hurt your feelings." He probably wanted to be her friend, but was too ashamed to be seen with her. And she was also being a bit of a know-it-all. Finally, curiosity got the best of her, and she followed after the group.

When Snape turned around to check if he was being followed, he saw no one. Harry had deftly crammed behind a statue. However, the statue he had chosen already had an occupant: Shal. Harry knew why Shal had come: to go after the troll. Shal knew why Harry had come: to go after the troll with him. So they both said nothing. The pair then noticed Ron and Hermione behind a statue right across from them. When the coast was clear, they all climbed out into the hallway.

"What are you thinking, man?" Ron asked Harry as the quartet crept after Snape's fleeting feet.

"Think about it. Why isn't Snape down with the other teachers in the dungeons?" said Harry incredulously.

They all turned to Hermione. "What are you doing here?" asked Ron.

"Well," she began sheepishly. "I was worried about you two doing something foolish."

"Never mind," said Harry. "You're here now, there's no sense going back, I guess."

They continued to pursue Snape's fading footsteps. He had gone onto the third floor. They were just about to follow when Shal clutched his nostrils, disgust apparent in his manner.

"What is that awful smell?" Shal said, thoroughly grossed out. "What did you guys eat for lunch, a toilet seat?"

It was then that they heard the sound of gigantic footfalls off in the distance, accompanied by animalistic grunting. They hid behind a corner and they saw the creature ambling down the hallway. It was a monstrous thing, some twelve feet high, with gunpowder gray skin, giant, muscular limbs, and a small head atop a great mountain of torso. In one of its mammoth arms, it held a club that was probably fashioned from an entire tree. The troll reeked of a combination of extreme B.O. and feces.

The three humans were petrified with fear. Shal smiled.

"There it is. The troll. It won't be causing any more problems when I'm through with it." With that, he darted silently toward the incredible hulk and scaled a wall behind it. The humans were amazed when they saw that the wall was perfectly smooth. Little did they know that copper dragons have the unique ability to climb any stone surface, even the ceilings, like a spider.

_And so, the hunt begins_, Shal thought. The creature's back was to him, and its own stink probably covered up Shal's presence. He prepared himself, crouched down, and lunged at the creature's head. He latched on with his sharp claws and began viciously attacking its bald scalp. The creature let out a yowl of pain as it swung its head around stupidly, trying to get a look at the new assailant. Only then did it realize that the dragon was actually on its head, and it started swatting at Shal. But he was too fast for it. He deftly dodged the troll's madly flailing arm as it grabbed at the tiny pest.

"You're retarded!" Shal shouted mockingly at the troll's buffoonery.

The troll then got the bright idea to smack it off with its club, so it took a swing. It missed the quick little dragon and whacked itself squarely on the top of its meaty skull. It staggered and swayed as the world spun around it. Shal seized his opportunity to knock the creature out. He climbed down the creature's back and one of its legs, and bit heavily into the creature shin. The troll stumbled, hit its already bludgeoned head into the wall, and fell to the floor unconscious.

The humans had been watching all the while, utterly in shock that something so small could take down something so big. They rushed over to Shal, but were cautious in case the troll woke up.

"How did you do that?" Ron asked, astounded.

"Proper training and lots of practice," the young dragon replied. "My father taught me how to hunt."

"Is it dead?" Hermione asked.

"No, but it could be. You want me to kill it?"

"That won't be necessary," said a voice from behind.

The first years turned about to see Professor McGonagall glowering down at them. She was even more ticked off than when Harry had left the ground after Malfoy.

"Now, what do you four think you are doing?" she asked, reddening with anger.

The three boys um'd and er'd and stuttered, because they couldn't think of an answer that wouldn't get them in trouble. Hermione spoke up.

"I'm the one to blame here. I thought that I could take on the troll, because…well, I've read all about them."

Harry and Ron stared at Hermione, baffled. _Is she lying_, their faces seemed to say. Shal, on the other hand, was pleased, because she was doing something completely out of character: she was sticking up for her friends.

"But I was in over my head," she continued. "If Shal hadn't intervened, I'd probably be dead."

"Miss Granger," the professor replied, just as surprised, "I'm very disappointed in you. How could you even think of taking on such a creature by yourself? Five points will be taken from Gryffindor for your extreme lapse in judgement.

"You boys had better be getting back to the tower. A point will be deducted for each of you for disobeying Professor Dumbledore's orders."

As they turned to go, Professor McGonagall said one last thing. "And as for you, Shal, I'm impressed." The four stopped and turned. "Not many first years could take on a mountain troll single-handedly. I will award Gryffindor ten points for your skill and bravery. Now ple-."

Before Professor McGonagall could finish, the troll made a loud growl that startled all of them, and it rose angrily from the floor. Just as it got to its feet, Shal panicked and dove in front of the others. He then breathed a massive jet of hissing green acid right at the troll's head. Hermione let out a shriek of terror as the stream of acid hit dead on and continued gushing passed, finally slamming forcefully into a wall behind. It then stopped suddenly. All this happened over the course of about one second. Where the troll's head and shoulders used to be, there was now nothing more than a bloody mess. Headless and armless, the torso (or what was left of it) and legs of the beast fell to the floor lifelessly. The wall behind had a huge five-foot-diameter hole in it.

Speechless, the four humans stared at Shal with those all-too familiar wide eyes. He grinned broadly and strode off toward the Gryffindor common room. From then on, Hermione was friends with their little group. They also gave Shal a little more respect, and he could almost feel a twinge of fear in their eyes.


End file.
